


Curse of Hatred

by Demetria_0620



Series: Uchiha Tobirama AU (Clan Swap!) [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, At this rate it is never gonna end, But he is a brat, Clan Swap, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, It gets out of hand, Izuna-centric, M/M, Maybe at first, Not Izuna-friendly, Spiteful Humour, This is supposedly be a three-shot damn it, This is why I should never be allowed to do multiple-chaptered fic, raendown is genius, the Uchiha kids are mini horrors raised by Tobirama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demetria_0620/pseuds/Demetria_0620
Summary: Ever since he was a child, Uchiha Izuna abhorred his elder brother.And it wasn't even Tobirama's fault.(My take for raendown's story of "Under the Surface (Dig Deep Till It Bleeds)". Clan Swap!AU)





	1. To hate the blood we fear

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under The Surface (Dig Deep Till It Bleeds)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563253) by [raendown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on and inspired by "Under the Surface (Dig Deep Till It Bleeds)" by raendown. It was a good piece and I couldn't take Uchiha Tobirama out of my head ever since then. This is a fic for a fanfic, so I highly recommend you to read the original fic. It's so good and will be worth your time.

Ever since he was a child, Uchiha Izuna abhorred his elder brother.

And it wasn't even Tobirama's fault.

* * *

Izuna remembered that day very clearly.

It was a calm day, and Izuna was playing alone in the compound, his mood as dark as the gloomy sky.

It was merely a few days since the last battle against the Senju—the battle that took the life of his _last_ brother, Jiro—when Uchiha Tajima returned from his supposed _business_ rendezvous with an ally, carrying a mangled corpse of a whore in one arm.

His other arm was cradling a skinny boy.

Izuna remembered being stupefied in both shock and horror, unable to tear his gaze away from the spinning Mangekyou of the trembling boy—the first time ever he saw the second upgrade of the Sharingan.

"Get the healer," Tajima has grunted at Izuna, not even bothering to explain himself as he gently placed the mangled woman onto the ground, only to shift so that he could cradle the strange boy with both of his arms. "Come on, Izuna. Quick. Get the healer."

Izuna didn't respond. He _couldn_ 't.

This boy was no Uchiha. The silver-hair alone was proof enough but yet—

The boy twitched, lifting his head from its rest against Tajima's collarbone to the dead woman on the ground—Mangekyou spinning viciously as he howled in pure sorrow.

Izuna peered up to look at the boy's face—his curiousity got the best of him—and his gaze met the spinning Mangekyou.

Izuna was pulled into hell.

He screamed.

* * *

"You have the nerve to bring your bastard home…"

Izuna woke up to the quiet cold voice of Grandma Sachiko, feeling strangely exhausted and worn. He couldn't remember what he dreamt of, but the pain still lingered, the weight in his heart reminded him when he cradled the broken, mangled bodies of his brothers in his small arms, feeling their cold bold drenched his body.

Grief. He had never felt grief this violently strong and it exhausted his young body to the point of immobility.

The familiar warmth of Tajima's hand was threading through his hair and Izuna couldn't help but nuzzle to the warmth. Mother has died a long time ago, shortly after giving birth to Izuna's youngest brother (who also died in an ambush at a mere age of two) and since then, Izuna was deprived of gentle parental touches like this.

He would've basked in the warmth if not because of yet another warmth cuddling him close to a skinny small body.

"We do not abandon our children, Mother," Tajima spoke, voice soft and eerily forlorn. "He has no one left."

Grandma Sachiko exhaled a sigh.

Izuna decided to snuggle to the smaller warmth for comfort from the weighing grief, knowing that Jiro wouldn't mind his clinginess at all.

"How long has this affair of yours went on?" there was a tiny clink of the teacup meeting the saucer. "How long have you been hiding your second family from the clan?"

"He's turning seven," there was a smile in Tajima's voice—rare it was but the fondness was obvious. "So, it would be eight years."

Grandma Sachiko hummed but said nothing else.

Izuna snuggled deeper into Jiro's chest, almost purring in approval when skinny arms wrapped around his body in return.

There was a reason Jiro was Izuna's favourite. He was so cuddly and warm and such a good fighter too—

Flashes of memories spurred into Izuna's drowsy mind—the bloodied mangled corpse that was crushed under a violent doton jutsu, the broken hilt of the sword in the loose grip and the pained flash in Tajima's eyes when he hugged Izuna and told him that—

—Jiro was dead too, following the footsteps of their other brothers.

Izuna was an only child now.

Izuna promptly tensed up.

His eyes snapped open, only to see silver everywhere—silver hair, silver lashes and pale skin that was so NOT Jiro—and Izuna hissed like an angry cat, pushing the skinny boy off their pile on Tajima's lap, sending his half-brother sprawling on the ground.

"Izuna!"

Tajima's warm hand found his shoulders, but Izuna shrugged it away as he focused all the anger his five-years-old body could muster to stare into the surprised ruby eyes—the ruby eyes that eerily resembled a sharingan, even without the tomoe.

The bastard didn't even bother to look at Izuna properly in the eyes. He was staring at Izuna's shoulder instead.

Izuna sneered.

"Don't touch me."

He stormed out of the room, leaving the crumpled form of his half-brother—his _remaining_ brother—pretending that he didn't see the tears that rolled down those pale cheeks.

That bastard was not his brother. Never be. Never will.

His last brother was Jiro.

Jiro was _dead_.

* * *

Izuna didn't bother learning the name of his half-brother.

In his mind, the silver-haired was a bastard—an outsider that did not belong in the clan—no matter how strongly Tajima tried to argue that he did marry the Hatake woman that bore the ruby-eyed demon before the boy was conceived. Everything about the silver-haired was _wrong._ He stood out like a sore thumb—the only silver spikes in the midst of dark locks, the only sickly pale among healthy fairness of a true Uchiha, the only ruby against Uchiha's onyx, the only _suiton_ user in the midst of their _katon-_ oriented clan.

The freak did not belong in the Uchiha clan.

And Izuna wasn't the only one with this thought. The whole clan agreed with him.

But they didn't dare to say anything—not when the elders have lost their voice as Tajima floated with beaming pride whenever anyone mentioned his bastard son.

Pure Uchiha he was not, but the bastard was the strongest sharingan user in the whole clan.

Pure Uchiha he was not, but the bastard managed to master the polar opposite of his own nature affinity—razing the ground with his blue flame before washing away the remains with his violent water.

The clan couldn't say anything. Not when it was the freak who slew Senju Butsuma.

The kill itself was a feat of sorcery. Not because no one had even come close to slay the Clan Head of the Senju, but because of how the bastard has slain the man. The battlefield was filled with anticipation as the silver-haired freak stepped between Butsuma and the injured Tajima, clashing swords with the Clan Head of the Senju with no hesitation or fear. Everyone was expecting— _hoping_ —that Butsuma's sword would pierce the sixteen years old's chest, praying so hard that the Senju Clan Head would kill the silver-haired demon that the Uchiha could not touch but—

—but the bastard simply stepped to the side and vanished from sight, only to appear directly behind Butsuma and took the man's head as his prize.

The whole battlefield froze in fear as Butsuma's headless body fell. Every eye on the battlefield—be it Uchiha or Senju—widened in horror as ruby eyes fluttered shut behind red-tainted silver hair as if the demon was relishing some form of twisted pleasure from his kill before the menace bowed at the injured Tajima and presented Butsuma's head like an offering.

Demon. Uchiha Tajima's bastard son was a literal demon.

Senju Hashirama instantly called for a retreat and ended the battle of that day.

Izuna seethed as the elders reluctantly named the bastard as the Clan Heir.

The clan was not happy too. They feared the red-eyed demon.

But they could not do anything. They have no choice. Not when it was the demon's hands that healed their injuries after each battle despite his own exhaustion—glowing green chakra soothed them from the pain more than they would ever admit. Not when that demon was the one who stood in the frontline of each of their battle, red gigantic ribs of the legendary Susanoo shielded the clan from the worst of the Senju brothers' assaults since only the demon could take both of Hashirama's mokuton and Madara's fire without so much as few minor wounds on his skin or little dents on his armour.

The Uchiha couldn't do anything when the demon's blue flame razed the remains of the battlefield, driving their enemies away when the clan could no longer fight.

He protected them. Not a word, not a complaint—nothing. A silent shield for his clan.

They feared him in return.

And when Senju Madara ended the beating of Tajima's heart, the Uchiha was the one who trembled in fear for the future.

Their new Clan Head was a demon.

* * *

Izuna only learnt and remembered his half-brother's name when the elder called upon him to a private meeting.

"Tobirama-sama is too powerful," one of the elders spoke, his voice gravely and grim. "He is too dangerous."

"And there is no guarantee of his loyalty," the second elder added. "He is not fully bred of the clan's bloodline. Should he decided to defect to his maternal clan, we're doomed in this war."

"His sharingan is too powerful," the female elder sighed, eyes fixed on Izuna. "It would be more beneficial if we regain it for people who have the most loyalty to us."

She stared pointedly at Izuna as she said that, placing her teacup with a soft clink.

"I think you deserve his sharingan more, Izuna-sama."

Izuna bowed his head but kept his silence.

The elders either trusted him with the task to put an end to the demon's reign, or they wanted to take Izuna out of the heir lists by giving him this mission.

Sage knows that all previous sixteen assassins either drowned from their insides or been tortured with genjutsu so potent they ended up slitting their own throat and setting their own corpse on fire.

Not that he has any choice. He rather been used by the elders than expose this ploy to that bastard.

"We're looking forward to the day you slay that demon, Izuna-sama."

Izuna nodded obediently.

* * *

Poisons didn't work.

Perhaps because of his skills in medical ninjutsu, Tobirama only needed to sniff at his food and the ploy would be exposed.

"That is the third time this week, _shishou_ ," Kagami commented, wrinkling his nose as he placed the cup of poisonous tea onto the table. "And it's only Thursday," the boy sighed, sniffing the tea again. "Is your assassin even trying anymore?"

Um, hello? Izuna was right here and totally _not_ offended at all.

"It's not nice to belittle someone else's effort, Kagami. They _tried_ ," Tobirama chided, swapping the cup with his plate. "This one next."

Kagami frowned, scrunching up his little chubby cheeks as he sniffed at the content of Tobirama's untouched lunch. How the hell the boy managed to stand being so near and familiar to the demon was a mystery. Kagami was literally the only pure Uchiha who spent time with their Clan Head outside of the official business—the only who toddled around the compound with beaming pride for being the only student to their terrifying Clan Head.

Weird blood. Izuna knew that Tobirama would've adopted the retarded child if only the elders allowed him to do so after the death of Kagami's parents.

Bless the gods that Kagami still have an aunt left.

Kagami eventually pushed the plate back to the centre of the table, crossing his arms with a thoughtful look.

"Mmm…," the boy started, eyeing his Clan Head hesitantly. "Is it nightshade?"

Izuna stared at the four-years-old boy, then to his half-brother, completely perplexed.

"Good try," Tobirama hummed, reaching a hand across the table to pat Kagami's fluffy hair. "It's actually hemlock."

Kagami pouted. "Why is recognising poison so hard…?"

Tobirama chuckled good-naturedly.

Izuna seethed.

* * *

Izuna was contemplating on slaying the demon from the back when Hashirama first offered a truce.

He halted, sword barely left his side when he met the gaze of the spinning sharingan as the dojustu faded to bright rubies. Izuna locked his jaw, determined to not give anything else away, despite the trembling of his hands and the sweat that slickened his grip on the hilt.

He _knew_.

Tobirama _knew_ that his own brother was about to slay him.

The bastard quirked a smirk before he turned his head around to sneer at the waiting Hashirama, sharingan spinning back to life.

"No." It was a single word that came in the form of a vicious sneer.

Izuna felt like the word was more directed to him than to Hashirama.

The battle continued.

* * *

"I don't need—"

"Iryo-jutsu is much more effective than bandages."

 _I can't trust you_.

"Izuna," the demon sighed, ruby eyes fluttered shut as he swiped a hand across his brows. "Be reasonable."

Izuna shifted backwards, the dread and panic settled in his stomach when the glowing green hands reached out for the wound in his ribs.

He failed to kill this man merely hours ago. Now that Izuna knew that Tobirama was aware of his intention to assassinate him, it caused a full-blown panic and distrust.

How could he trust the demon to heal him when he knew what Tobirama did to his other assassins?

Izuna yelped when his half-brother pulled him close but couldn't stop the blissful sigh from escaping his lips when he felt the soothing chakra invaded his body and aided his recovery. The stinging pain grew to become a bearable soreness as the blood finally stopped and the wound closed.

"Try to have a proper rest," the demon murmured once he was done, reaching out a pale hand to pat Izuna's shoulder.

Izuna flinched.

The hand halted.

If Izuna looked up to meet those ruby eyes, he would've seen the raw pain in those orbs.

But he kept his head down and didn't see anything.

* * *

Tobirama never said anything.

He didn't say anything when the assassination attempts started to grow in frequency as the clan started to grow desperate over the evolving prowess of his sharingan.

They didn't know how he did it. They didn't know how Tobirama kept finding a new way to use his sharingan, kept creating new jutsu that only deserve the honour of being listed as _forbidden jutsu_ and kept evading the assassination attempts without so much of a shift in his emotionless face.

They didn't know how the hell his sharingan kept evolving when there were minimum traumatic events that had happened to invoke such evolution.

Such an irony that the clan with a dojustu capable of seeing the most minute details were unable to see the little things about their leader.

They didn't see the hurt in his eyes every time they flinched away from him.

They didn't see the pain that haunted those ruby eyes every time they rushed away from him once their official business with him has ended.

They didn't notice his breaking heart when Izuna spoke to him with words that would make all sensible adults rushed to cover the children's ears.

They didn't notice that they were the actual cause of his evolving abilities.

They didn't notice, and they didn't care.

For all that they know, their Clan Head was a demon.

* * *

Whispers about the Uchiha Clan Head spread like a wildfire, ignited by the Uchiha themselves.

A demon, they called him. A devil walking among the mortals

Even his appearance supported the theory. Skin so pale like the embodiment of death itself, hair a pure silver so unlike the more human colour of the rest of the Uchiha and the ruby eyes that reflected his lust for blood. Those ruby eyes never made direct eye contact with anyone, as Tobirama's gaze often landed slightly off the other person's eyes, as if anyone who directly meet the gaze of those ruby eyes would meet a gruesome end.

If asked, there was one thing that the Uchiha clan whole-heartedly agreed on;

Uchiha Tobirama was a demon that lusted for blood.

He did not even spare Hashirama's offer of truce any more response than a sneer as he razed through the battlefield—cutting down enemies and protecting the Uchiha—bathing in the blood of his foes with such a manic craze to be everywhere all at once.

The world believed those words—especially after seeing the Uchiha Clan Head vanishing from sight only to appear behind another unsuspecting person, sending the horrified victim to death in a blink of an eye. It was a feat of sorcery—the powers that did not belong to a human.

He was getting even more powerful as the time passed.

The Uchiha clan panicked.

Anytime now, and Tobirama would be done with the Uchiha's hatred and his horror would be turned against them.

Izuna was urged to slay that demon before the situation worsened. Hikaku was ordered to be his aid, knowing that to take on the demon alone—no matter how unprepared the demon was—would be a suicide at this point.

They decided to do it when their leader was distracted by Hashirama's insistent offer of truce. The Senju wouldn't mind. One less powerful foe for them to fear.

The next battle would be between the Uchiha against their own Clan Head.

* * *

Izuna hated Hashirama.

It was so close. The Uchiha was so close to ending the reign of the silver-haired demon—and it would have been successful too. They all saw Tobirama lowered his sword, sharingan faded to clear rubies and shoulders slackened to a contemplative slouch—a slight opening that would end him with one strike of Izuna's sword if only Senju Hashirama didn't interfere.

The Senju Clan Head has offered his truce again to Tobirama, a beaming smile grew on his face when for the first time, the Uchiha Clan Head did not respond with a sneer. Instead, the silver-haired Uchiha has frowned, looking genuinely confused.

"Why?" such soft unsure word was a first they all ever heard coming from the demon. "Why would you offered something that you know I would deny?"

Hashirama beamed. "Because we're humans, and we possess the ability to have a change of heart."

Tobirama was eerily silent.

Izuna didn't know what kind of expression his half-brother was making, but he saw the shift in Hashirama's dark eyes. The Senju's eyes softened, almost soothingly and he looked like he would have reached out his arms to embrace the enemy if he was as stupid as he acted like.

Hashirama remained in his place.

"Because I want peace," when the Senju head spoke afterwards, his voice was clear, ringing across the frozen battlefield. "Too many lives have already been lost. This war is senseless but we have the power to end it," he implored, offering a hand towards Tobirama, "…you and I, if you would just take my hand."

Hashirama's hand hung suspended in the air as Tobirama hesitated.

"You're an elder brother too," the Senju leader murmured, voice growing so soft that Izuna has to strain to hear, as those words were meant only for Tobirama. "We have lost too much in this pointless war—and I refused," there was a grim understanding in the Senju's dark eyes as he glanced at his own younger brother, eyeing Madara with the fierce protectiveness of an elder brother—something that later in his life, Izuna would belatedly remember seeing in Tobirama's own ruby eyes every time he caught the older man staring at him—as Hashirama added, "—I refused to lose anything else, and I know that your heart feels the same too."

The dark eyes of the elder Senju flickered just briefly towards Izuna, and Izuna _knew_ that he was caught—that Hashirama saw the slight shift of Izuna's and Hikaku's weight, that the Senju knew they were about to strike Tobirama with a killing blow from behind.

If there was any proof that Senju Hashirama was not the idiot he came across as, this was it.

It was subtle—Hashirama didn't even move—but both Izuna and Hikaku felt it, the fear of being stared down by _the_ God of Shinobi as those dark eyes stared at them, an unspoken warning against their ploy.

And they were betting on the Senju to be on their side against Tobirama.

Leave it to Hashirama to go against all predictions.

"You mean that," was all that eventually left the demon's mouth in a hesitant rumbling hum of thought.

"Of course I do!" Hashirama bounced back to his cheery foolishness, breaking the spell that he had on both Izuna and Hikaku.

Tobirama took Hashirama's offered hand.

The Uchiha feared for their future.

* * *

Turn out, the fear was baseless.

Konoha was surprisingly a good idea.

Izuna has never dreamt of being able to wake up to a peaceful morning where the only thing he dreaded was the paperwork piling on top of his desk at the Hokage's tower. He could hear the laughter of the clan's children just outside the window as they relished in a peaceful happy childhood—something that Izuna himself had no chance to enjoy, being bred and raised in the middle of a war.

Izuna has begrudgingly admitted that perhaps the clan was too tied to the old ways to throw the suspicion away back then during the start of this peace when they left Tobirama alone to be their representative to build the village.

Izuna appreciated this peace with the Senju.

Even if Izuna was sorely tempted to gouge Senju Madara's eyes out of their sockets.

The damned Senju has been throwing disapproval looks to Izuna's way ever since Hashirama first laid the foundation of the village. They rarely talked outside the few interactions while dealing with the administration as the Clan Heir of both founding clans, but Izuna could feel Madara's disapproving stare boring upon his back every time they crossed paths.

Izuna didn't know why he seethed when it was Madara who invoked the tiny smiles from Tobirama's usually unchanging expression.

It was no secret that the younger Senju spent more times with Tobirama rather than his own brother, something that the whole village took pleasure in watching whenever Hashirama burst to his dramatics and demanded Tobirama to return his baby brother back to him.

That usually ended with Madara sticking his tongue out at his elder brother before dragging Tobirama by the furs of his collar out of the window of their office.

The first time it happened, the Uchiha feared for their life if Tobirama decided to slay the annoying younger Senju right in front of Hashirama.

The whole clan (minus the strangely happy and smug Kagami) freaked out when Tobirama indulged Madara's antics with the tiniest quirk of a smile as Hashirama bellowed at them with an anguished accusation of Tobirama stealing his beloved baby brother from him.

Though, those three _always_ ended up being seen at dinner together, sometimes Kagami joining in by taking his favourite spot either next to Tobirama or directly on the man's lap—the child would sneakily steal from everyone's plates, much to both Clan Heads' amusement and Madara's irritation.

More clans flooded into the village upon the spread of the news that the Uchiha's demon was getting along so well with the God of Shinobi and his fiery brother.

The village prospered. The peace lasted. Their people were happy.

No blood has ever been shed again.

Until it did.

* * *

Izuna didn't feel anything when Kagami burst through the Hokage's office with tears streaking down his cheeks and his injured teammates limped behind him as he exploded into manic babble demanding for reinforcement for his dear _shishou_.

An ambush. Kumogakure has finally made their move—and Izuna was generously impressed, considering that they dared to ambush the Uchiha's Clan Head despite knowing of Tobirama's demonic reputation. Such foolish daredevil attack that Izuna would applaud and pay a round of drinks for, if those Kumo-nin could survive Tobirama.

Kagami babbled on, voice inching to the note of hysteria.

Apparently, Izuna might have to pay the drinks for the Kumo-nin after all.

Tobirama was edging on chakra exhaustion after healing his students when it happened. If Kagami's frantic words were any true, the demon was already close to passing out when he ordered his students to flee as he faced the foes.

Izuna fleetingly considered to get back home early and tell the elders that they might need to crown him as the new Clan Head, just in case.

On the other hand, Hashirama spared only a brief second to gather himself before he shed his Hokage robes and reached for his armour, his baby brother was close on his heels—Madara only halted in his path as he stood right beside Izuna.

"You're not going?" the younger Senju growled, chakra flared in rage.

"And leave the village unprotected?" Izuna countered in a hum.

Madara sneered but said nothing else.

Izuna watched the Senju brothers departed without an ounce of worry or sorrow in his chest as he contemplated the type of burial the clan was supposed to give to Tobirama. Traditionally, the Uchiha cremated their dead, but Tobirama was only _half_ Uchiha, so they could sneak around that tradition. As one of the founders of the Konoha, it wouldn't be too glaringly disrespectful if they laid Tobirama to rest in Konoha's graveyard instead.

The clan would appreciate it if they did not lay the half-bred demon to rest in the clan's graveyard.

"Stop crying," Izuna snapped to the beaten children, eyeing Kagami's tears with a distasteful leer. "A shinobi would not show such pathetic weakness."

Kagami's gaze snapped up, his newly awakened sharingan glazed with tears as they bore straight into Izuna's soul. The boy has all but spat at the Clan Heir;

"A decent human being would have shown emotions when their last brother is in mortal danger."

Izuna backhanded the boy, sending Kagami to the wall.

"He is not my brother," Izuna gritted out through his clenched teeth.

_My last brother is Jiro and he is long dead._

* * *

Hashirama and Madara returned faster than expected, empty-handed.

Izuna was crowned as the new Clan Head.

The Uchiha rejoiced.

* * *

They were in the midst of their celebration (disguised as a funeral wake—but no one but Kagami was actually grieving) when the Senju brothers knocked upon their doors.

It wasn't like there was any body to grieve over with anyway.

"Hashirama-sama," Izuna greeted once his guests were seated in front of him, taking the authoritative tone of his new position to greet the worn-looking Senju. "Madara," he added with a curt nod. "What brings you to our doors so late at night?"

Hashirama exhaled a deep breath and cast a fleeting gaze to his younger brother.

Madara's jaw was locked in place as if he was forced to swallow a particularly bitter medicine. It took a full minute before the younger Senju could gather himself back. Madara took a deep breath as he placed a scroll and a bloodied happuri in front of Izuna.

Izuna didn't even bother to change his bored gaze upon seeing the bloodied happuri.

"Your brother's final wish," the younger Senju said firmly, head bowed slightly to hide his eyes behind his dark unruly mane.

Izuna resisted the urge to snap at Madara, to berate the Senju for associating his pure bloodline with that half-bred, but he held back his tongue and remained silent. The Senju was not aware of the Uchiha's own animosity against their former Clan Head. Plus, judging by the closeness of the Senju brothers with Tobirama, it was better if he kept it silent, so that he did not fell into Hashirama's bad grace.

The only regret the Uchiha clan have regarding Tobirama's passing was that no one else in the clan could even hope to match the God of Shinobi should a war broke out again.

"I thought you found nothing?" Izuna hummed, only to start attempting to act when Hashirama's eyes narrowed upon witnessing his lack of grief.

The younger of the Senju gritted his teeth, obviously displeased with Izuna's reaction. Hashirama's hand immediately came up to rest upon Madara's shoulder, a reflex to sooth that Izuna recognised with a thick tinge of envy. It took only a second for Madara to relax, breath growing calmer as the Senju Clan Heir reached a hand out to grasp Hashirama's grounding hand.

Meanwhile, Izuna seethed in envy as he watched the brothers' interaction, wondering if he would have the same relationship with Jiro if only his elder brother was alive.

He squashed down the rising memories—memories of glowing hands soothing his injuries, memories of powerful protective presence guarding him whenever he fell to the pain-induced delirious fever, memories of the broad back cloaked with red Susanoo shielding him from harm—he squashed them down without mercy because the bastard was _not_ his brother.

A tiny part of him trembled, as if disagreeing.

"Tobirama hid something before he—," Hashirama trailed off, swallowing bitterly. "He must have known that Madara would be one of the reinforcements and since Madara is familiar with his seals…"

Izuna blinked. _Seals_?

He was not aware that the bastard demon has any knowledge of the art of _fuuinjutsu_.

"He knew that I would discover the thing that he hid," Madara spat in a low grumble, dark eyes flashing dangerously upon meeting Izuna's gaze that Izuna fleetingly wondered how powerful the Senju brat would be if only he was born in the Uchiha clan and possessed the sharingan. "He left this for you."

"I don't think this is so important to require both of you crashing our _funeral wake_ —"

Izuna halted mid-speech when Madara unsealed the scroll to reveal a sleek container—two perfect spheres floated in the clear fluid, the ruby irises were eerily familiar.

The new Uchiha's Clan Head stared at the container with widened eyes.

"Your eyesight is deteriorating, right?" Hashirama murmured, voice soft and weighed with grief. "I believe he intended for his eyes to be used to cure yours."

"Oh," Izuna breathed, honestly not expecting this pleasant surprise.

Madara's chakra flared dangerously.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Senju?" Izuna snapped, honestly not impressed when his men broke the door to defend him the moment the wild dangerous chakra claimed the intention of being _murderous._

"He fought," Madara growled, standing now as he loomed over Izuna. "He fought, alone and blind," he choked out, sending Hikaku to the wall with a simple flick of his wrist and Ayaka to the opposite wall with a kick in her gut as he pulled Izuna up from his seating position by the folds of his black yukata. "Alone _and_ blind, _Uchiha._ Because he wanted to make sure you have a chance to cure your eyes," the man hissed, unruly mane flared up like the hackles of an angry beast. "And _that_ is your reaction?"

"It was his choice to die that way," Izuna sneered, clawing on Madara's hands in a well-hidden panic.

Hashirama was the powerhouse of the Senju Clan. The God of Shinobi was hailed as the strongest in term of his military prowess that most often, people forgot that his younger brother was powerful in his own ways too—the only katon-oriented shinobi among the Senju.

"He was your _brother_ ," Madara's voice was softer as he spoke, laced with thick raw emotions. "Your _last_ brother," the Senju added, grip loosening on Izuna's yukata. "If it was me in your place, if it was _Hashirama_ who died alone and _blind_ ," he spat the last word with a distasteful horror, adding, "I would've turned the world upside down and burn everything in my path to avenge him."

Izuna sneered. "And that is the difference between you and me, _Senju_."

Madara punched him across the room.

* * *

Izuna didn't feel the effects of the loss until months after he became the Clan Head.

Oh, he enjoyed the perks that Tobirama's eyes gifted him—he honestly could not believe that despite the continuous use, the ruby eyes that resided in his skull was still perfect like brand new eyes—and the way his clan hailed him for possessing Tobirama's sharingan abilities made him preened in pride.

He had every single one of the demon's ability—all except for the ability to teleport.

He wondered if Tobirama has sealed that ability from these eyes because the demon didn't trust him enough to not stab any of the Senju brothers from the back.

Considering that Madara has requested a long-distance mission outside of the village's borders right after Tobirama's official funeral, Izuna has no doubt that the demon's death has hit the younger Senju harder than it should. Those two were pretty close, yes, but it was still weird that Madara could not look at Izuna's newly-transplanted ruby eyes without having that mixed expression of longing and pure rageful hatred.

Back then, Izuna didn't bother to wonder why Madara was so affected by Tobirama's death.

But the effects of the loss have indeed caught up to young Clan Head—months too late, but it finally did—and it started with Kagami.

Kagami, who after the tenth or so rebellious defiance has managed to snap Izuna's thin patience to the point that the Clan Head threatened to disown him from the clan.

To the clan's surprise, the boy's lips curled to a smirk as he stood defiantly, toe-to-toe against Izuna and spat;

"No need to disown me, oh honourable sir. I quit this godforsaken clan."

Kagami turned on his heels and headed to the door where his nervous teammates were waiting when Izuna gathered his wits again and fumbled for his last-resort threat.

"If you quit this clan, you're not allowed to have the sharingan!" Izuna shouted, lips curled to a smug smile knowing that there was no way the boy would gouge out his own eyes—

Except that Kagami did.

With hands glowing in poor mimicry of the healing jutsu that the clan has lost when Tobirama died, the boy gouged out his own eyes and left them on the floor, a grim smile was on his youthful face as he spoke, both eyes now closed and leaking out blood;

"Take it then. Perhaps with these extra eyes, the whole lot of you could cure your blindness."

The whole clan watched in disbelief when Kagami walked out of the compound with pure defiance, his nervous teammates trailed behind him.

"You dared to go against your Clan Head?" Izuna scrambled after the boy, yelling in pure rage. "Insolent brat!"

He only have two reasons to chase after the boy.

One, because he should not tolerate this behaviour, having his own ego as the Clan Head.

And two, they really could not afford to lose Kagami because even without the sharingan, the boy was trained by Tobirama and was powerful even without relying on his dojustu.

"I only remember one Clan Head," the boy hissed back, turning around to face Izuna's direction.

The collective gasps of surprise resounded so loud across the compound when Kagami disappeared from the protective circle of his teammates, only to reappear behind Izuna with the tip of his kunai pressed against Izuna's open back.

"His name is Uchiha Tobirama," Kagami said, his voice was void of emotions as he pressed the blade a bit deeper against Izuna's back. "And my loyalty only belonged to him."

Izuna froze, the surprise was still dormant in his mind.

Kagami vanished from sight and reappeared where Izuna least suspect it.

That was supposedly Tobirama's sharingan ability.

 _How_?

Izuna didn't realise that he has said that out loud.

Kagami's expression softened, brows scrunched at the centre of his forehead.

"None of you really know anything about him," the boy murmured, shaking his head in grief. "None of you even bothered…"

Kagami lowered his kunai and stormed in the direction of his waiting friends, the blood leaking out of his eyes now was diluted with his tears.

Izuna only barely heard the boy's soft murmur as Kagami stormed past him;

"And yet, he died thinking of _you_ …"

Something huge and heavy lodged itself in Izuna's throat, making it difficult to swallow.

He didn't know why those words affected him.

But it did. It affected him greatly.

And that was only the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the angst. I adore raendown's idea of clan swap. Uchiha Tobirama would be hella terrifying on the battlefield. I'm still contemplating on adding the second chapter for this, but then again, this looks like an okay ending? lol who the hell am I bullshitting. I wrote this purely to have Izuna suffering over the guilt after he realised that he has forsaken the brother that dearly loved him. His suffering just started.


	2. To miss the one we lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snippets of regrets and reactions of the Uchiha and some of the other clans before we get back to our Izuna-centric story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING : Lots of OCs ahead. This might have deviated from the original inspiration but then again, since when did I stick to the plans?**

* * *

People said that you'd only appreciate someone when they were gone.

The people were right.

* * *

Uchiha Hikaku was the first to realise it.

He returned from a patrol bearing a large bleeding wound from the clash against rogue ninjas from Wind Country that attempted to intrude their borders. Once they arrived behind the half-constructed gates, Hikaku waved off his teammates, assuring the concerned Sarutobi that he would be fine on his own and the team should go back to their own clan compound to get proper treatments and rest. The reports could wait until tomorrow, considering that they have eliminated the threat and there was no need to wake the Hokage for such nonsense.

Plus, Senju Hashirama still terrify Hikaku senseless. To rouse the man at this hour of the night was the last thing the Uchiha wished to do, moreover the whole village already knew how much of cranky grump the God's little brother was.

Hikaku has no wish to test whether Madara's cranky morning manner was a family trait or not.

Hikaku clutched a hand over the makeshift bandage of his wound, mind sluggish with exhaustion and blood loss as he let his body moved on auto-pilot. His body traced the familiar path while his sluggish mind attempted to elevate his pain with memories of soothing relief washing over his body.

"—door?"

Hikaku blinked at the far-fetched voice, finally realising that his body has brought him to Izuna's front door.

"Uh?" Hikaku blurted out, still confused upon seeing Izuna.

Why did he come here again?

Izuna sighed and pinched his brows. "I ask, what the fuck are you doing bleeding all over my front door?"

Something in Hikaku's subconscious rebelled, knowing that this reaction was not the usual reception he would get whenever he headed this way. His mind remembered a tiny concerned frown, pale hands that were surprisingly gentle would then held him, aiding him to sit before the hands glowed green and _relief relief relief relief_ —

His subconscious urged him to walk inside the house, headed straight down the hallway to the room at the farthest end.

_Comfort. Comfort, there. Heal._

His delirious subconscious urged him.

But Hikaku didn't move, his sluggish mind fought to remain awake despite all the blood loss. Relying on the pain to stay awake, Hikaku swallowed and looked past Izuna's shoulder to the dark hallway. He didn't walk inside. Despite the door that Izuna has left open, despite the way his injured body yearned for the comfort that his saner mind knew would never receive, despite the dangerous blood loss he was suffering—Hikaku didn't walk in.

The source of his comfort was _gone_.

"I—," Hikaku started, grimacing at Izuna's confused stare.

_I'm hurt, and I want to see Tobirama?_

_He is the only healer-nin in the clan. I need him._

_My body seeks comfort from our dead demon's hands?_

Hikaku couldn't say that to Izuna. There was no one else among their clan that hated their former Clan Head more than the man's own little brother.

"I wasn't thinking where I was going."

He settled for that, grimacing wider when Izuna rolled the achingly familiar ruby eyes.

When the grumbling and obviously annoyed Izuna braced Hikaku's collapsing weight with his body and zero gentleness, Hikaku mustered all his strength to not groan in pain.

The new Clan Heir was already missing the soothing relief of the dead demon's glowing hands.

* * *

Being parents was a bad idea.

Holding the wailing babe in their hands, Uchiha Masami looked up to her equally exhausted husband, channeling her best accusing glare to the man.

"This is your fault," the woman hissed, pulling the child closer to her chest and away from her husband's hands. "Takuma, I fully blame you."

"But we agreed!" Takuma choked, almost wailing in distress himself if not because of his years as a shinobi during the warring states era that sharpened his senses to know that the action will only increase the wrath of his wife. "You agreed to have kids!"

"I didn't expect it to be this hard!" she growled, making the wailing babe in her arms to hiccup before crying even louder.

"It shouldn't…," Takuma murmured softly, voice drowned by the wailing of his own child.

It used to be easy to have kids.

Never before Takuma ever heard the parents of their clan whined and complained at the horror of raising a child. Everything was so easy. They trained and conducted their duties, perfectly fine leaving their children under the free offered care of— _oh_.

Oh, indeed.

It used to be easy to have kids because they were not the ones raising their children.

The Uchiha's infamous 'cousins-bond' existed for a reason after all.

They were once shinobi of one of the largest and strongest clans in the warring nation. They bred to create new soldiers instead of raising the symbol of their love. Fathers were barely around, being called to join the battle every time it happened—and most often, they hardly returned the same man they once were, if they returned at all. Mothers were only around until the child weaned before they too, been called to join the battle—the Uchiha did not discriminate their military power—and just like their men, most often these hardened kunoichi returned as different women, if they returned at all.

So, what of the children?

The children incapable of fighting was left together in one house, protected with the strongest barrier seals and wards, cared under the supervision of the older children and some of the elders, growing up as one large unit of siblings without their biological parents around.

During the era Masami and Takuma first joined the battle, the children were left at the Clan Head's house, protected by deadly barriers so impossible to penetrate and guarded by a massive white leopard with gleaming ruby eyes.

No child has ever been hurt in an unsuspected ambush during the reign of the Uchiha Demon.

Whenever a party was foolish enough to take the advantage of the absent warriors in the compound to attack the children, the leopard stood its ground and protected their children for them. Later of the day, the Uchiha would return from the battlefield—worn and weary from their harsh day—only to be greeted with a pile of dismembered limbs around the Clan Head's house. The sickening crunch of massive jaw chomping on human's bones echoed throughout the perimeter as the smug white leopard bounded over to greet their Clan Head with an affectionate nuzzle to his thigh.

The children were safely inside the house, shielded from the horror outside.

It used to terrify the whole clan.

But now the new parents wished that they still have that easy way out of this horror they have brought upon themselves.

Who would expect that child-rearing would be such a tedious job? Moreover, in this time of peace?

Masami belatedly realised that throughout the whole decade of the demon's reign, the clan have left their children under his fierce care. They spent more time to train, they assigned more people for patrols and sent out more agents to spy the enemies during the Demon's era because they have no worries of raising their children.

Most of their young children grew up recognising the nooks and crannies of the Clan Head's house.

Uchiha Tobirama basically, and single-handedly raised the clan's children.

Takuma only now realised the reasons behind the children's reluctance when their parents ordered them to never speak to their demon of a Clan Head unless if it was really necessary. The children have looked so hurt upon being inflicted with that restriction, like their own parents have taken something so important from them for no reason at all.

And they did. They took Tobirama away from the children.

Masami internally winced, the dawning realisation had her to make sense of her nephew's rebellious behaviour.

"Oh, poor little thing."

She turned around, struggling to hold her squirming child still to meet the gaze of her rebellious nephew.

"Kagami," she greeted with a grunt. "You're home early."

"The team is not in the mood to train," Kagami explained, the sorrow still prominent in his eyes even after two months of the demon's death. "The weather is warm and nice today."

Masami exchanged a look with her husband, wondering how the hell that information was even relevant.

"Shishou loved to take a nap when the weather is warm and nice. He liked the feeling of the sun against his skin," the boy explained, probably detecting his guardians' confusion, his voice was soft as a tiny melancholic smile grew on his face. "We used to get a free pass out of training on days like this."

Masami swallowed. Takuma hid a wince.

They didn't know that.

Who would have expected that the demon would have such human and inane habit?

The new parents could only watch in bewilderment as Kagami reached out to gather their squirming infant into his arms and just like the feat of sorcery, the babe's high-pitched wailing mellowed down to tiny sniffles as Kagami rocked her in his arms, carrying the little bundle of horror in an aimless circuit around the kotatsu before he laid down on the floor, the yawning babe cradled against his chest.

Sorcery. This is sorcery.

Masami and Takuma have taken the whole morning attempting to do what Kagami just did in under five minutes.

"Kagami," Masami called, kneeling beside her nephew's head, eyes were staring in awe at the way the little horror yawned adorably against the boy's chest, chubby cheek nestled against Kagami's heart. "How do you know what to do with her?"

Kagami's eyes carried that intense sorrow and pain no child his age should feel.

"Because I see shishou do it like this," Kagami murmured softly, burying his face in his cousin's soft hair as he exhaled a choked laugh. "But it used to be a bunch of children piling on top of him. Not that shishou mind, though," he snorted, voice dripping into the melancholic far-fetched tone again as his glazed eyes stared at the ceiling, looking at something neither of his guardians could see. "Shishou always smiled—like he enjoyed being crushed underneath a pile of children—said that it helped him recover," Kagami smiled again, adding with a more humorous note in his voice; "I named it the _Cuddlepile_ technique. Perfect to soothe weary bones after a long battle. "

Masami gaped.

Takuma closed his mouth, swallowing his own question with much difficulty.

The image of the silver-haired demon, lying on the floor and _smiled_ while having a pile of children on top of him haunted their mind.

It was too human.

The imagination that their mind wrought upon them showed the demon under a more human light, so harmlessly human that they have to hide their collective wince, remembering their own words that discouraged those children from ever speaking to the Clan Head again the moment they were old enough to leave his protection and fight as soldiers.

And now, they no longer have the chance to see the more human side of the demon.

Masami and Takuma felt the regret and guilt settled down in their chest.

* * *

Uchiha Sachiko outlived both of his son and grandson.

Yes, _grandson_.

Late as it was, the ancient woman finally swallowed her ego and accepted the bastard child of her son to be of her own bloodline.

What would ego do her any good _now_ as she faded from the eyes of the youth—yet another relic of their bloody past that put a burden on their young shoulders? They have moved on into this era of peace, only carrying old baggage like her out of respect to her as the 'mother' of the clan, the matriarch of their Clan Head. She felt their insincerity from their quick efficient touches. The way they bowed too politely at her once they were done managing her needs—their onyx eyes lacking the warmth she used to take for granted, the warmth that used to pool in smouldering ruby eyes—as they left in hurry, returning to their business.

They managed her with the highest quality of care, but they lacked the warmth and love her old soul yearned for.

When her caretaker's efficient quick hands deftly cleaned her of her soiled bedding and clothes, she imagined the hesitant yet gentle pale hands that used to carefully clean her up. From the depths of her deteriorating memories, she remembered the tender care of his hands as he applied the soothing lotion over her dry skin, the way he carefully lifted her up so that he could slip her kimono onto her bony fragile body and she regretted, she regretted the cold ungrateful words she had thrown his way.

She regretted the tantrums she threw, the food that she so carelessly hurled his way—and he didn't evade, allowing the bowl to leave a bruise on his pale face—Sachiko regretted everything, now that she knew that her demon of a grandson was the only one in the whole clan who was patient enough to love and care for a senile old woman like her.

She was old, almost reaching a century of life—she would be, in two more years—and most people would have been proud to live that long in the era where shinobi's life usually didn't go past thirty, but all that she wanted now was to die.

She wanted to meet her grandson again.

She wanted to kneel by his feet and begged him for forgiveness—begged him to love and care for her again.

She missed his tender care and gentle touches.

She missed the loving softness of his ruby eyes despite the ungrateful abuse she spat to his face.

She missed him. She missed Tobirama dearly.

"Obaa-sama," Izuna sighed, brows pinching near the centre of his forehead. "Please be reasonable. I'm busy. The duties of a Clan Head demand my attention. I can't constantly accompany you."

"You can do the work here," Sachiko pleaded, grasping Izuna's hand with all of the strength her old frail bones could muster.

Izuna frowned. "I can't do that, Obaa-sama. I'm the Clan Head."

 _Lies. Lies. Lies. Tobirama accompanied me. Tobirama did_ _his_ _paperwork here. He was a Clan Head too._

"I'll have someone to accompany you for lunch," Izuna sighed again, looking exasperated. "Would that be acceptable? I have works to do."

_I want my grandson to eat with me._

But she reluctantly nodded.

Izuna has always taken after Tajima—and she knew her son. Tajima would not yield from his decision once he has made it.

Tobirama's existence within the clan's compound was the proof. Tajima did not bend to any suggestions that she and his elder councils have attempted to force him to agree—the suggestion to take the boy's eyes and left him with a civilian family somewhere.

Tajima has shot down that suggestion before they could even insist.

Knowing that, there was no chance for her to plead Izuna to accompany her for the rest of the afternoon.

Sachiko held back her tears until Izuna left.

She missed her other grandson—the one who sat to eat with her as often as he could, even when all that she did was threw a tantrum and spat hurtful words to his face.

She missed the one who displayed warmth while managing her needs, caring for her without hesitance or complains.

She missed the grandson who looked at her with all the love a devoted grandson would have to a worthy grandmother, despite the fact that Sachiko was far from having an ounce of worth to deserve his love.

She missed Tobirama dearly.

Sachiko wept for her dead grandson.

* * *

Hatake Sakuno knew that she wasn't supposed to intrude another clan's compound.

The village was still new and green, and despite the warm welcome from the Uchiha and the Senju, the smaller clans were still wary, scared that they will cross any unknown lines that will anger the two powerful clans. The Hatake was especially wary of the Uchiha—knowing that the late Uchiha Demon was partly theirs, born from the middle princess of their clan.

Sakuno never understood why her clan was wary to introduce her Tobi.

Tobi was her cousin. He was much bigger and older, but he was her cousin from their mother's side and she liked to play with him. He played stupid games with her whenever he could—and she appreciated his time. She knew that he was so busy with his clan and the village, but he still tried to find some time to get to know her.

Sakuno may be young, but she was mature enough to understand his sacrifice that their short playtime was something that she deeply cherished.

Sakuno really liked her cousin.

He could weave pretty dreams for her—sending her to play in the clouds or wander in the lands of sweets and candies. It wasn't real, but she could still feel the fluff of the cloud in her hands and taste the sweetness of the chocolate river on her lips, even after he brought her back to the real world.

So, it still counts.

She adored his spinning red eyes. She thought that his normal eyes were pretty, but his sharingan was her favourite.

Then, he went on that mission.

He didn't come back.

Sakuno cried for weeks. She cried and cried, clutching the white plush toy to her chest and growled to anyone that tried to pry the fluffy leopard away from her grip. He promised her. He promised that he will come back and play with her.

He lied to her.

Sakuno was mad.

So, she intruded the Uchiha's compound, knowing that if his spirit was watching her, he would be pulling his hair in frustration because she did that one thing both him and her own clan has forbidden. The issue of Tajima's secret marriage with her aunt was a taboo among the Uchiha—and the Hatake did not wish to fuel the simmering fire by igniting that taboo all over again.

Not that Sakuno understood that. She was _four_. She didn't understand the politics that revolved between the clans. All that she knew now was that she wanted to anger the spirit of her deceased cousin. Out of spite, she has vowed to not name her firstborn son after him. She will name her firstborn child as Sakumo instead—it sounded like her name, and totally not like her cousin. She hoped that her impromptu vow would anger him too.

Perhaps if she angered him enough, he will come back to haunt her?

She would be fine with that.

As long as Tobi was with her, she would be fine, even if he existed as an angry spirit—she would be fine…

Sakuno blinked her tears away.

She wanted her cousin back.

"Tobirama?"

Sakuno halted mid-sneaking, recognising the name that almost made her cried again—but she didn't, she didn't cry because she is Hatake Sakuno, the alpha princess of the Hatake pack and the cousin of the legendary Uchiha Tobirama, so she should not cry at the mention of his name—

Sakuno vehemently wiped her tears and faced the person who had caught her.

She blinked at the frail old lady.

"Obaa-sama?" Sakuno toddled closer, standing on her tip-toes to lean up against the windowsill.

The old lady burst into tears, frail bony arms reached out to wrap around her.

"Tobirama, my dearest boy," the old woman sobbed, burying her face into Sakuno's silver hair. "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, my boy."

Sakuno has no heart to tell the senile grieving lady that she was begging forgiveness from the wrong person.

What harm would it do if the person the old woman was really looking for was no longer in this world?

Months later, when Senju Madara finally returned to Konoha from his S-ranked long-termed mission, Hatake Sakuno would understand how _wrong_ she was _._

* * *

Akimichi Chonami might have retired from the kunoichi life after the last fight that took both of her legs, but she was still the woman born and bred in the middle of the war—a woman not made to be underestimated.

Right now, she was so close to smashing the annoying Uchiha Clan Head into a splat.

By the love of Shodai-sama, was the sharingan the only family resemblance this brat has with his much more mature and pleasant elder brother?

"Kagami-chan is not of any clan, Izuna-sama," she has all but growled to the persistent Uchiha, now fully understood Kagami's decision to leave the clan. "He is simply crashing with my son for the time being while the issue of his inheritance was dealt with."

"He has _inheritance_?" the young Uchiha Clan Head shrieked, ruby eyes widened in disbelief.

Chonami mourned the good old times those ruby eyes belonged to a much pleasant man—a man that made the unyielding Akimichi matriarch regretted her own misguided judgement during the wartime as Uchiha Tobirama proved to her again and again that he was nothing like the rumours made him be.

Chonami could never look at the silver-haired Clan Head and see a demon, when she already witnessed him being piled on by chubby Akimichi children.

(The kids have all lost their fear of him the moment he sent them to fantasy land made of sugary sweets and teeth-rotting junk food with his sharingan. The end. Tobirama was officially the Akimichi children's favourite adult. What even would their own parents mean to them?)

If Tobirama was indeed a demon, then Chonami has sold and sealed her soul to that demon the moment she heard the gentle puffs of genuine laughter that escaped the man, despite all the adults in the room knew that he would have been in considerable amount of pain after being crushed by the understandably heavy children when he was already sporting a few bruised ribs.

Bless that man. How could anyone even think of him as a demon?

Ah, right. Because of his prowess on the battlefield.

Well, he might be a demon on the battlefield, but there was peace now. Ever since he took Hashirama's hand, the now dearly missed silver-haired Uchiha has grown relaxed, his terrifying presence softened around the edges as more people saw the real man behind the ridiculous rumours. He was a good man.

Too bad that good people always die young.

And left the living to deal with their annoying replacements.

God, she missed Tobirama-sama. He was much more pleasant to deal with than his younger brother.

"From _who_?" Izuna hissed, apparently not picking up the cues that Chonami would rather slam the door on his face.

Akimichi Chonami really wanted to climb up the stairs to Torifu's room and help Kagami bandaging his eyes, thank you very much. Her dear son would turn the now clanless boy to a mummy the longer she left them unsupervised.

"Who the hell leaves that insolent brat _anything_?!"

God, Chonami now knew why Kagami left his own clan.

Either that, or the boy would have assassinated his own Clan Head just to have some _peace_ from all the drama and yelling.

"Tobirama-sama did," she snapped, shifting on her prosthetic legs.

Izuna was silent for a moment.

 _"What_?" then, he hissed, as if in disbelief.

Chonami rolled her eyes.

"You inherited everything of his in the clan's compound, yes?" Chonami hurried, hands twitching to slam the door in front of the Clan Head's regrettably handsome face. "He left all of his research, his library, his laboratories as well as all of his belongings at his residence in the town square to Kagami-chan."

The look on Izuna's face was so hilariously memorable that Chonami wished she possessed a painter's hands to immortalise the expression in a paper later. She would burn it as an offering for Tobirama-sama. Gods knew that the dead might need a few laughs here and there.

"Even _I_ was not allowed free reign over his research!" Izuna shrieked, invoking a smirk upon Chonami's lips as she noted on his bruised ego. "He left everything to that brat?"

"You may refer to Madara-sama or Hashirama-sama, who were entrusted with copies of his will," Chonami held back a grin, enjoying Izuna's anguish way too much for her own good. "Or if your authority allows it, you may request the Head of Legacy Unit at the tower to show you the original copy of his last will."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Izuna looked like he was about to blow his top, face flushed red in anger. "He named that brat as his legacy?"

"Yes," Chonami nodded. "Have a good day, Izuna-sama."

Then, she slammed the door right in his face.

Stalking back towards her kitchen to retrieve some tea and snacks for the kids, Chonami was greeted with two amused gazes.

"That was… _interesting_ ," the blonde man hummed, sipping on his tea.

"Maa…troublesome," the dark-haired woman countered, stretching her lean muscled arms above her head. "I miss the air of serenity that Tobirama-sama carried around."

"His younger brother is more enthusiastic," the blonde man chuckled, leaning over his cup. "Interesting character."

"I beg to differ," his dark-haired companion countered, yawning lazily. "The brat is _loudly troublesome_."

Chonami huffed in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to explore some of the Uchiha's reaction and added Tobi's family from his mother's side. Also, the Ino-Shika-Cho clans were my absolute favourites, and who else would I trust to support Kagami in his time of need?
> 
> We'll get back to torturing Izuna after this intermission.


	3. To indulge in our burning spite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spite. Spite. Izuna is tortured by everyone's spite. And Hashirama is spiteful enough to support it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed, un-reviewed. Read at your own risk.

 

Sharingan was known for its photographic ability.

One gaze when it was activated, and those memories will be ingrained forever in the sharingan, tinted in red like the typically bloody circumstances that awakened the red dojutsu for the first time. 

The first dream was scorching  _hot_ and bloody  _red._

Izuna knew it was not a figment of his own mind because he could feel the heat of the fire and the wet warmth of blood that splotched on his own face. Everything was the perfect crystal clarity of the sharingan, tinted with the slightest hue of red that seemed to illuminate the surrounding fire with an echo of the strange anger and sorrow that he felt building up in his chest.

Hunched and curled up on the ground, barely hidden behind the collapsing hut, Izuna found his gaze to be fixed on the mangled body of a young boy.

A dead boy that carried an eerie resemblance to his own half-brother.

Izuna wanted to tear his gaze away, wanting to know what was happening around him but he couldn’t. His gaze was fixed on the dark eyes of the dead boy—no matter how he tried, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the dead glaze—as a feeling of deep sorrow that he last felt when Jiro died brimmed up in his chest.

That was when the delirious chanting echoing in his mind registered to his awareness.

_Otoutou. Otoutou. Otoutou. Otoutou. Otoutou. No no no no no no no no no no no_

Despite how much he was internally screaming that he did not know this dead boy, Izuna could not tear his red-tinted gaze from the lifeless gaze of those open onyx orbs nor did he was able to stop the delirious chanting in his head.

Izuna heard a rustle. Someone moved behind him, the malicious intent was clear from the way their chakra flickered with manic glee and Izuna found his own body moved faster than possible, using the broken piece of a metal rod by his side as a makeshift weapon.

The masked man seemed like he was moving in slow motion in Izuna’s red-tinted clear gaze when Izuna lunged and took the man’s throat with a mournful howl that ripped out of his own.

He was too small and short; thus the attack was barely able to kill his opponent. Instead, he only managed to graze a shallow wound on the man’s throat. The failed kill made his opponent even more angry and violent against him.

Izuna almost wished he could close his eyes to wait for the impending blow that will strike him dead.

The blow never came.

Instead, the man collapsed in a spray of blood, head separating from his neck. Standing behind him like an angry wolf whose cub was threatened, was a woman—the very same woman Tajima carried home the day he brought Tobirama into the Uchiha compound. Her silver hair rose like the hackles of an angry beast, her teeth gleamed in an angry sneer and her dark eyes carried the promise of death for those who dared to come near her. She whirled around in a fluid movement—and Izuna was stunned, breath hitching in his throat as he watched the angry goddess slaughtered the remaining offenders, slamming the wrath of hell down onto the group of men

When it was over and Izuna was finally snapped out of whatever shock he was feeling, he was already safely cradled in her loving arms, her gentle voice crooned soothing words to his ear. 

Izuna felt the tears pricked his eyes and was barely able to stop himself before he started to wail.

The woman hushed him gently, running her coarse fingers on the damp skin below his eyes in a soothing manner, soft chapped lips peppered his face with kisses.

“You did great, pup,” she crooned, rocking him in her arms. “I know you defended your little brother well,” she soothed, nuzzling his hair affectionately. “It is not your fault.”

Izuna felt the start of an argument rose up his chest but was stopped as his gaze stared past the woman’s shoulder to stare at a familiar man—looking much younger than the last he saw him, but there was no mistake—as the man wrapped the mangled broken body of the dead boy in his cloak, carrying the corpse towards them.

Despite his red-tinted gaze seemed to be fixed on the man’s solemn face, Izuna found himself focusing on the fan emblazoned on the dark fabric that wrapped around the corpse.

“Tajima,” the woman greeted in a soft sigh, reaching out a hand towards the man.

Tajima only caressed her wrist before his arm reached past her outstretched hand to cradle her shoulders, pulling both her and Izuna to his chest. Izuna felt a gentle kiss on his forehead, the lips that bestowed him that kiss was much drier and chapped than the woman’s, but it was loving nonetheless that Izuna could not resist the urge to move closer and snuggle to his father’s chest.

“I’ll see to their gruesome end,” Tajima’s voice bore the same anger and bitterness that Izuna often heard after each of his brother’s death. There was no doubt that it was a promise of revenge. “You have my words, pup. Your little brother’s passing won’t go without retribution.”

Izuna felt something snapped inside his small body as he started to burst to tears again.

His chin was tilted up to meet two pairs of eyes—one was gleaming as dark as the night while the other was spinning in vicious Mangekyou—as Tajima’s rough thumb gently wiped his tears away. Tajima leant down to kiss his forehead again.

"For now, try to get a rest," Tajima murmured, quirking the tiny rare smile that was only used when he wished to soothe his children. "It has been a day."

Izuna blinked at the man, feeling a bit disoriented when the adrenaline faded away and the shock of the traumatic event finally hit him. Tajima kept his face tilted up, the hard edges of his vicious Mangekyou softened when he crooned in a mimicry of soothing hum to match the woman’s voice as he added;

“Can you try to do that, Tobi?”

Izuna jolted awake.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Izuna swore that he was going to murder Kagami. 

This was surely a genjutsu cast by the boy. There was no other explanation. It was a genjutsu.

After all, these vivid traumatic dreams only started after the boy’s little show of defiance the other day.

Kagami must have weaved Izuna into an intricate genjutsu then. It wasn’t that much of a far-fetched idea, knowing how powerful Tobirama’s genjutsu was. The boy was Tobirama’s student, having been toddling after the demon everywhere ever since he was  _three_ , thus it was perfectly logical if Kagami picked up a trick or two from the deceased demon.

This must have been a genjutsu.

A genjutsu cast to drive Izuna crazy, sending him into fake memories where he has to repeat what that was supposed to be Tobirama’s life over and over again, feeling the emotions that were not his and responding to deaths of the people that he didn’t even know.

The second dream he had has jolted Izuna awake with tears streaking down his cheeks, mind haunted by the violent image of  _his mother_  (no, it was not; she was  _Tobirama’s_  mother) as her spine was snapped like a twig, the sickening crunch of her bones rung in his ears even after hours since he was jolted awake hurling the acid in his stomach to the side of his bed.

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt a deep level of understanding, remembering the death of his own mother.

But that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of kids lost their parents during the time of war.

Tobirama wasn’t a special snowflake.

A lot of kids lost their parents during the war.

Lots of kids lost their parents during the war. 

Tobirama wasn’t special.

He wasn’t special.

(Even if he witnessed his mother being tortured and murdered right in front of him.)

(Even if he witnessed his mother’s corpse been violated and defiled before she was mangled and broken like twigs.)

(Even if they tied him up and had him witnessed everything, sharingan spinning to record everything in eternal memory.)

Tobirama. Was. NOT. Special.

Izuna repeatedly reminded himself that—reminded himself of the fact that Tobirama was not special—as he squashed down every shred of sympathy and guilt that started to grow within him every time he was jolted awake from his restless and traumatising sleep.

Despite being a shinobi with enhanced endurance, reliving traumatising events every night eventually has taken a toll on Izuna’s health.

He became jumpy, avoiding all Hatake woman at all cost because their silver hair and dark eyes kept reminding him of the livid gleam in the eyes of the angry goddess in his dreams—the very same goddess he had to watch being defiled and violated as her last dying breath left her lips. Izuna grew even crankier than Madara ever was (and that was saying something because the younger of the Senju brothers was infamous for his snappy and vicious temper) as he stopped sleeping by the end of the first week, only falling to restless naps whenever his body gave up.

Every morning, Izuna never forget to remind himself that his deceased elder brother was a bastard and a demon that the world was a better place without Tobirama in it.

His voice lost its confidence by the end of the first week. Doubts laced his words even when he tried to convince himself that he was never wrong about Tobirama.

No, he was not wrong. His judgement was not misguided by envy and fear.

Tobirama’s violence in the battlefield was because of the demon’s lust for blood.

Tobirama tried to be everywhere in the battlefield all at once, attempting to kill all foes that crossed his path because he genuinely enjoyed the feeling of cutting down their enemies.

If the demon’s gaze always skittered to the clan members he just took the blade for with pure relief, it has nothing to do with his past experiences watching the people he cared for being taken so ruthlessly from him.

It has no relations.

Izuna loathed the sway in his own voice when he repeated those words to the mirror every day. He abhorred the desperation in his own voice as he attempted to convince himself that this horrible genjutsu was not taking an effect on him.

It won’t change his opinion on his demon of a half-brother, no matter how vivid those “memories” were.

Izuna’s health was declining.

The ruby eyes he used to covet now started to lose its lively gleam, being weighed down with his own exhaustion.

By the end of the fourth week, Izuna was swearing deaths to Kagami’s name and chanting curses of hell towards Tobirama’s soul.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t get better after that. 

Oh, no. It gotten  _worse_.

It was like everyone was out to drive Izuna crazy.

Izuna blamed Kagami.

And Tobirama. Definitely Tobirama. Tobirama was the root of all of this insanity.

Even in his death, Tobirama was the bane of Izuna’s existence. 

 

* * *

 

“Kagami-san?” 

Kagami turned his head in the direction of his teammate's voice, chakra instinctually unfurled to sense his friend. There was a slight resistance when he found Danzou's chakra but in an instant, the resistance was gone as Danzou allowed Kagami's chakra to wrap around his own. Kagami raised an eyebrow, mapping out the nervous fluctuation of the younger boy's chakra. He then tipped his head in confusion, pinpointing the flow of Danzou's chakra and reached out a hand to ruffle Danzou's hair. 

Danzou made an adorable little squeak.

“I told you to not be so formal, Danzou,” he reprimanded with a tiny grin. “We’re friends.”

“But you’re our taichou now,” Danzou muttered, cheeks flushed to a light hue of pink.

Somewhere from behind him, Koharu snorted and rolled her eyes. Hiruzen and Homura exchanged a discreet teasing laughter while Torifu sighed fondly at his scheming friends.

Danzou scowled. Traitors. He befriended a bunch of traitors. He needed new friends.

“We’re  _friends_ ,” Kagami insisted, throwing an arm around Danzou’s body and pulled the boy closer, totally unaware of the deeper shade of pink on the younger boy’s face. “Outside of a mission, I’m not your captain. I’m your friend.”

“Kagami-taichou sounds so cool, though,” Koharu inputted, smoothing out the edge of the scroll she was reading.  “Thank you for sharing sensei’s works with us,  _taichou_ -san,” she added with a teasing giggle.

“And for allowing us to crash at your house, taichou-san~” Homura added with a cheeky chirp.

“Even when you’re not around and off for a mission,” Hiruzen resumed in a sing-song voice. “Taichou-san, you’re the best!” 

Torifu snorted a giggle.

Kagami pouted.

“The three of you!” the former Uchiha whined. “Stop treating me like a superior! I’m just two years older than the rest of you!”

“Kagami-taichou~!”

The team (minus the oddly flushed Danzou), chorused teasingly, invoking another distressed whine from Kagami.

Trained and practically raised by Tobirama himself, Kagami was already above ordinary jounin by the time Hashirama set the ranking system up. Hence, with the passing of his dear shishou, Kagami was naturally promoted as the captain of Team Demon.

(Tobirama always sighed whenever they used that name, but the fond quirk of his smile told the team that he was more exasperated than offended with their choice of name.)

Their team—Team Demon—was the prototype and the first attempt to group children of different clans together. Shishou has ideas about it, wanting to enforce the idea of peace and acceptance of their diverse clans early on with the new leaves of the village.

Children were the best start to enforce their new peace after all.

But six was definitely too large for a group.

The Senju brothers has voted to cut the number of children per group to half of that, much to Tobirama’s distress.

Thus, the in-depth meeting that Kagami was roped into has gone on like this;

_“No one but **you**  want to handle six of those mini horror,” Madara has pointed out, arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. “Three kids per group. One jounin captain.”_

_“But—"_

_“I second that motion,” Hashirama meekly agreed, inching to hide behind his baby brother. "Six kids are too much of a **challenge** to pile on one jounin."_

_Tobirama opened his mouth to argue again, but upon seeing Madara's steely resolve, he shut his mouth, lips pursed in a sulky pout as he tipped his head to the side, ruby eyes gazed upon his own lap dejectedly._

_It was such a pathetic look to appear on the infamous Uchiha Demon’s face that the reactions that followed afterwards were fully justified._

_Kagami watched in pure amusement as the God of Shinobi wailed to the heavens, eyes squeezed forcefully shut as the newly crowned Hokage screamed in distress over the unfairness of the world for gifting the Uchiha Demon an irresistible pout that melted everyone to his will._

_As for Senju Madara (bless his poor soul), he simply gaped for a moment, cheeks flushed to a deep pink before he quickly gathered himself and steeled his shattered resolve again._

_“Three,” Madara growled, shoulders tensed._

_“You’re not separating my kids,” Tobirama growled back. “Six.”_

_There was a beat of silence_

_“Your…,” Madara faltered, voice trailed softer, “…kids?”_

_“My students,” Tobirama said, voice edging into a possessive territory, his chakra flared in defence. “ **My**  kids— Kagami, Hiruzen, Koharu, Danzou, Homura and Torifu.”_

_Madara did an impression of a fish out of water, seeming like he was thinking about something that Kagami was both interested yet refused to know, before the Senju Clan Heir flailed—arms waving around like he was attempting to banish some unsavoury thoughts from his mind—as a deeper shade of pink painted his face._

_It was another full minute of Madara being adorably **Madara**  before the young man gingerly agreed._

_“Fine. Six. But only your team,” the Senju Clan Heir said, pointedly avoiding from meeting anyone’s eyes. “Other teams are going to be three kids per team led by one jounin captain."_

_Tobirama smiled—the genuine one million raiton jutsu smile—as he hummed happily;_

_“Thank you, Madara- **kun**.”_

_Madara flailed._

_That was the moment Kagami knew that Senju Madara’s soul was officially sold to his Clan Head._

 

It was such a good old time.

Kagami clung to the memories he had of Tobirama hunched up at his table, spending all night long in his study as he drew out plans and drafts for the academy that the founders wished to be the starting point of enforcing the bond of unity and comradeship among children of different clans.

Kagami deeply missed the excited smile and manic gleam that would be on Tobirama’s face every time the famed demon worked on his projects.

It was some of the memories the blind boy so desperately clung to.

“Kagami-san?”

“Danzou,” Kagami sighed, exasperated yet resigned. “Do I even have the hope that you will stop being so formal with me?”

Silence. Then, Hiruzen broke it with a teasing giggle while Koharu snorted in pure annoyance.

Kagami frowned.

Danzou sent glares of death to his traitorous friends.

“No, then?” Kagami pouted, dropping his head in a resigned slump. “Fine. So, what is it you wish to talk about?”

“Um,” Danzou hesitated, looking away from Kagami’s bandaged eyes and definitely away from his friends’ mixed expression of disapproving scowls and teasing smirks. “Nothing,” he promptly said when Kagami’s head tilted in confusion again. “I just want to ask about the kids? They have been here for a week? Like, they have been living here for the whole week you’re on your mission? Their parents should be worried?”

Danzou blurted out his impromptu responses in hesitant questions, cheeks an adorable shade of pink as he avoided looking at Kagami’s face.

Torifu sighed in amused exasperation.

Hiruzen buried his face into Torifu’s shoulder to muffle his laughter while Homura claimed the Akamichi’s back to muffle his own. Koharu’s brows twitched, her fingers clenched around the edge of the scroll—her annoyance clear from the glare she directed towards Danzou.

Kagami, however, promptly snapped to attention.

“Wait, what kids?”

 

* * *

 

Kagami really was attempting to kill Izuna. 

At least, that was what that Izuna has convinced himself to think.

“Izuna-kun.”                            

Izuna winced, hands coming up to clutch his own head as his head snapped up from the paperwork to deliver a nasty glare at the concerned Hokage.

“ _What?”_ he growled, hissing when his own voice rung inside his brain in a painful echo, the headache now returning full force.

“You’re not looking well,” Hashirama murmured, keeping his voice soft and low as he noted on the familiar signs of migraine. “You may leave early if you wish,” he added with a gentle smile.

Old habit died hard, and Hashirama couldn’t resist the urge to soothe a pained baby brother. Moreover, now that Madara was away on a mission and Izuna was lacking a big brother to care for him, Hashirama felt obliged to honour Tobirama’s memories by looking after Izuna.

Not that the little brat would appreciate it, but Hashirama has lived through Madara’s amusingly annoying and bratty “I’m a big boy” phase, so he could deal with Izuna’s brattiness just fine.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Hashirama resisted the urge to roll his eyes and pout. What was it with little brothers and their chronic stubbornness of not admitting when they were in pain?

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” the Hokage insisted, offering his palms—both hands now glowing in a peaceful green chakra.

Izuna seemed to consider the offer but then he grimaced, ruby eyes narrowed in suspicion as his lips curled to a sneer.

“No, thank you.”

Hashirama frowned.

 _Stubborn brat_ , thought the God of Shinobi.

“Unless if you allow me to maim Kagami, there was nothing you could do to  _help_ ,” Izuna sneered in a grimace, eyes darting back to his paperwork.

He didn’t notice the way Hashirama’s dark eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“Kagami-kun has done nothing wrong,” the Hokage’s voice steeled just slightly—still calm with a hint of his bouncy cheerfulness, but the tone of warning in his voice was clear. “Why would you wish for harm to befall on that boy?”

Izuna sneered.

“The brat cast this horrid genjutsu on me,” he growled.

Hashirama frowned deeper.

“Inomaru-san said that there is no foreign chakra in your system,” the Shodai said, voice dropping to the stern tone that matched his famed nickname. “There is no genjutsu. Whatever that you’re experiencing, it is not because of foreign interference, let alone to be caused by that boy. Your accusation is baseless.”

“Tobirama named him as his legacy,” Izuna sneered, not even glancing up from his paperwork. “I wouldn’t underestimate that boy if I’m you.”

“He is sixteen,” Hashirama countered.

“And we all know that a sixteen years old boy beheaded your father.”

Hashirama went into a cold silence.

Izuna didn’t bother to acknowledge the sudden spike of chakra that flared in silent fury from the older man. He had his paperwork and his too distracting headache to deal with. He did not have the patience capacity to deal with Hashirama today.

Thus, when Hashirama’s lips curled to a suspiciously evil smile, Izuna didn’t notice.

It was such a good thing that nobody believed Madara when he said that his dear Aniki was the most childishly and dangerously spiteful person in the whole Senju clan. Like how the Uchiha clan refused to see the warm human in the Uchiha Demon, the Senju refused to see the spiteful menace behind the bubbly foolish oaf Hashirama appeared to be.

It drove Madara crazy. No one believed him whenever he pissed his Aniki enough to cause the older man to start retaliating in spiteful revenge.

Izuna wouldn’t know what would hit him.

And Hashirama was going to enjoy every second of it. 

 

* * *

 

"Betrothed. “ 

Upon hearing the fond exasperated sigh of his nickname, Hashirama promptly schooled his face to the face of innocence, all white teeth flashed in a bright smile as he bounced to his fiancée, arms open to pull her into an embrace.

Mito rolled her eyes but did not resist his embrace.

"You're supposed to tell him," the Uzumaki princess chided, despite the fond quirk of her painted lips. "This is a big issue."

“I forgot,” Hashirama grinned, casting a leering gaze to the piling papers on his table. “And oh, look at that. I have so many other works to do, so perhaps I will tell Izuna-kun some other time~”

Mito gave him a disapproving look.

Hashirama pouted, pleading with his eyes.

Mito rolled her eyes.

Hashirama made a little celebratory dance when Mito’s shoulders slackened in resigned acceptance.

“I believe Madara- _chan_  now,” the Uzumaki princess grumbled, somehow managing to appear poised and elegant while doing so. “You’re one spiteful menace.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about~" Hashirama sing-song, pulling out the thick form from his "Pending Approval" shelf and smiled brighter as he read the name on the cover page of the clan registration form.

Hashirama then stamped a red giant block of approval on that form.

If he cackled evilly while doing so, Mito was the only one who witnessed it.

 

* * *

 

Hikaku swore under his breath, cursing his clan members as he paced in front of Izuna’s house. 

Izuna was going to kill him, he was sure of it. He was going to die a virgin at such a young age by the hands of his not-that-much-older cousin because his clan was such neglectful parents.

How the hell a bunch of parents could miss that their children have been missing for a  _whole week_  and just now only realised that it should be wise to alert the higher-ups?

They didn’t realise that their own spawn was missing from home.

Hikaku was so close of throttling his own throat once the parents came to his office in the compound to complain about Izuna hoarding their kids, despite the peace that should allow them more time to attempt some bonding with their kids.

Izuna. With kids.

Izuna. Hoarding kids in his house.

Hikaku so sorely wanted to point out that they got the wrong Clan Head. Izuna was not the one who enjoyed the presence of rambunctious  _spawn of hell_ they called as  _children_.

Izuna was not Tobirama.

These parents seriously accused the wrong Clan Head for that accusation.

Frantic at the reports of the missing children, Hikaku has sent an urgent message to the Hokage, hoping for a tracker team to be dispatched to help them track the kids before anything bad happened to them.

The twittering robin that came to deliver Hashirama’s cheerful reply was like a mocking taunt to the Clan Heir because Hikaku was sure he was going to be  _tortured_ to death once this came to Izuna’s knowledge. Dead. Uchiha Hikaku was a dead man. He was going to die. His own cousin was going to kill him.

And he blamed Kagami for it.

 

* * *

 

The Uchiha clan, as a whole, was used to the idea of communal day-care. 

It was the tradition of the clan, to raise their children together as a large unit of siblings in one part of the compound. Back during Tajima’s reign, the responsible person who was appointed to care for the children was Elder Maiko. She was the aunt for Tajima’s wife, the remaining member from the maternal side of the Head’s family and was a fearsome kunoichi back in her prime.

Takuma and Masami grew up together under her care.

Then, she passed away—the heads of the bloodline hunters that tried to harm her charges laid by her feet as she collapsed out of blood loss.

The new batch of children was temporarily transferred to the Clan Head’s house, considering the level of security and protection Tajima had set up around the perimeter of his residence.

Two days after the move, Senju Madara sliced Tajima’s chest open to avenge Butsuma’s death.

The children never left their new residence, only returning to the embrace of their parents whenever their parents came to pick them up.

Most don’t.

Hardened after a lifetime of war, most of the Uchiha parents chose battle and actions—taking up more and more missions despite the slight disapproving frown on the Demon’s forehead—as they chose their missions over the tedious task of babysitting their own spawn.

They were terrified to raise their own children, knowing that their own hands knew nothing about tender care after a lifetime of being soaked in blood.

They assumed that the servants were the one caring for the children.

The limit of the Uchiha’s imagination could not reach the level required to imagine their fearsome new Clan Head hanging around any of their rambunctious spawns. Even Izuna kept on going to missions or crashing on Hikaku’s bedroll—the Clan Heir found it impossible to stand being under the same roof with both of the Uchiha Demon and those rabid mini hordes of horror that will be their future military power.

They somehow did not notice those servants, happily helping out sorting the management around the compound for one last month before leaving one by one—none of them bearing the slavery seal marks that Tajima’s grandfather has placed on their ancestors.

They were free, and the Clan Head’s house remained servant-less.

Kage Bunshin no Jutsu was invented not long after that.

With such neglectful track record of the Uchiha as parents, it shouldn't be a surprise when they took far too long of a time to notice the  _disappearance_.

And when they did, it was too late to do anything.

 

* * *

 

Shimura Danzou had a problem. 

“What are you children doing here?!” Kagami wailed in a mix of distress and panic, rushing all over his living room to chase after the giggling children. “Your parents are going to accuse me of kidnapping you!”

“Heeeehhhh??” The children chorused, stopping in their tracks and tilted their heads in an eerie display of solidarity.

Kagami grabbed one of the smaller children by her collar and tucked another one under his arm.

"Why are you even here?" the teenage captain panted, turning his head around out of reflex, pinpointing his tiny guests through their undeveloped flickers of chakra.

Twelve. There were twelve children that were not his in his living room.

“We used to hang out at your place aaaalll the time!” The boy in Kagami’s hold piped, no longer resisting now that Kagami has cradled him to his chest. “We miss you, Kagami-niichan!” 

“That was when I still live in the compound!” Kagami wailed again.

The children giggled at his apparent distress.

“You used to play with us every time shishou is busy,” another one chirped, climbing up Kagami’s leg to half-cling around the blind teen’s waist. "You never come back after you left..."

“True!” one of the older kids said, reaching out her hand to tug the front of Kagami’s shirt. “Nii-chan, we haven’t seen you in months!”

"So we decided to move to your house~!"

“I—,” Kagami swallowed, opening his mouth as if he wanted to speak but the children’s voices drowned his next words.                        

“No one plays with us anymore.”

“The adults are busy with their grown-up things.”

“They don’t know how to play with us.”

“They think playtime is training time.”

“We hate it. It’s not fun.”

“We miss you, nii-chan!”

"We miss you!"

"We miss you so much!"

“We miss shishou!”

The last one came in the form of a chorused cry filled with mixed emotions.

Kagami stood dumbfounded, completely speechless.

"We miss Tobirama-sama!"

That was the trigger.

The children  _broke._

Some of the children broke into tears as they clung to Kagami, keeping the teen in their grasp with their small little fists. Some was sobbing the name of their deceased Clan Head, hands clutching the plush toy the demon has gifted them. Some were straight up wailing for the deceased demon to come back and play with them.

Danzou saw the moment Kagami’s stoic mask shattered into pieces.

Kagami’s mouth slacked open like he was gasping desperately for air before he clamped it shut, teeth gritted tight in an angry grimace as tears flowed down his cheeks, wetting the bandages wrapped around his eyes. His knees gave up and Kagami collapsed onto a broken heap on the floor, the grieving children piling up on him, small grabby hands clung to his shirt for comfort.

“I miss him too,” the young captain whimpered, clinging to the child in his arm like his life depended on it, his other arm curled around the pile of grieving children that has surrounded him. “I miss shishou,” he murmured, burying his tears-stricken face into the children’s hair. “I miss him.”

Kagami broke.

Danzou’s chest hurt.

Shimura Danzou had a problem.

And he was determined to fix it, even if it breaks the forbidden boundary of life and death.

Danzou clutched the forbidden scroll tighter to his chest.

He would make Kagami happy again.

 

* * *

 

The day Kagami decided to defect from the Uchiha was the day Team Demon become one unit of family. 

They each had a role in Kagami's new household.

As for Utatane Koharu, her role was to manage Kagami's official business, including the tedious menial task of sorting out letters and mission scrolls for her friend.

Not that Kagami actually needed any help, since he was able to read despite the lack of eyes (how the hell he did it Koharu has yet to pry) but it felt nice to ease up Kagami's burden when the older boy has already too much things to juggle in between leading their team, his own solo missions as well as continuing sensei's researches and projects.

Koharu was on her way to deliver a message to Kagami when she saw Danzou.

She halted in the middle of the corridor, eyes softening at the sight of the determined flicker in Danzou’s own.

The whole team knew that the serious boy had it bad for their new taichou. It was endearingly adorable, to see Danzou's feelings grew from genuine admiration to Kagami's prowess in the battlefield to an actual crush as their team bond knitted closer to become this fearsome elite team known as Team Demon. 

It was cute. Kagami was terribly dense while Danzou was so fun to tease.

Even sensei has his kicks teasing Danzou by using Kagami’s obliviousness.

Whoever that said the Uchiha Demon has no sense of humour has definitely never seen the way he was holding back laughter every time their training ended with a distractingly wet and shirtless Kagami fretting over a flushed Danzou.

Koharu was pretty sure that sensei had a bet going on with Madara-sama regarding the two stupid boys. Who wouldn’t?

The thought of her deceased sensei sent a flash of sorrow and guilt in her chest.

It was her injuries that he healed.

It was her injuries that caused Tobirama to be drained of his chakra and become vulnurable when the Kumo-nin attacked.

It was her fault the Uchiha Demon was killed.

It was her fault.

Thus, Koharu gritted her teeth, turning a blind eye when she saw Danzou retreated away with one of sensei’s forbidden scroll in his grip.

Edo Tensei was an immoral jutsu—to sacrifice a life and disturb the dead definitely crossed the lines of morality, even for a shinobi—but she was willing to turn a blind eye to Danzou’s obvious intention.

She hated it too when Kagami plastered that fake smile on his face.

Plus, the team missed sensei.

The team blamed themselves for sensei's death, knowing that if only they were a little stronger, things would have gone differently.

They all needed a proper closure to truly accept his death.

Meeting him again would give them that.

The teenage girl then stepped back and headed in the opposite direction from the living room, leaving the Uchiha pile to their mourning. She'll let them have their comfort in the embrace of each other's warmth tonight, the approval paper that Hashirama-sama just sent to taichou's study slipped back inside the pockets in her sleeves. 

Hashirama-sama would be coming tomorrow for the discussion to arrange the official ceremony anyway so Koharu would let the Hokage to be the one breaking the news to Kagami.

Such mischievous smart little ones, these children were, to comb through the newly established law of Konoha and seek for a loophole that will benefit their wants and needs.

Izuna-sama would blow his head off. Oh, Koharu was sure of it.

And she didn’t care. Team Demon would have Kagami’s back if the situation called for it. They were no match against Izuna, but if they could buy some time and opportunities for Kagami, they would do it in a heartbeat.

Plus, it’s not like Tobirama Clan did not have a nice ring to it.

 

* * *

 

“Repeat that again.” 

Hikaku winced, already seeing the glimpses of death as Izuna looked up to glare at him with those piercing ruby eyes.

“Twelve of our children are missing,” Hikaku started, inching backwards as Izuna’s eyes narrowed in his direction.

“And why aren’t you out there tracking them?”

God, just let Hikaku died already. A cranky and displeased Izuna was far scarier than anything that has ever wrought hell on Earth.

“Because they are still in the village.”

Izuna’s brows twitched.

“So, pray tell, why haven’t you retrieved them yet?”

Hikaku gulped, stepping back until the door was flat against his back. Squaring his shoulders, he memorised at least five escape routes using his sharingan before he blurted out his response.

“Because they ran away and officially defected from the clan.”

Izuna’s eyes squeezed shut. Hikaku felt the cold sweat trailed down his back.

“Ayame-kun, the only shinobi of age out of all them has filed a request to Hashirama-sama.”

Izuna’s knuckles went ghostly white as he gripped the edge of his table with force enough to leave cracks on the wood.

"She filed an official declaration for all of them to defect from the clan," Hikaku rambled, hands fumbling for the doorknob, "…and since we have never changed the official guardianship of the kids to their biological parents, their guardianship still belongs to Tobirama-sama…"

The edge of the table in Izuna’s grip crushed to splinters.

Hikaku felt tears pricking his eyes. Kami-sama, he was going to die. Izuna was going to torture him to death.

"So, according to Konoha's law that have been officiated last two months…," Hikaku went on despite the fear over his impending death, "…their guardianship now fell to the hands of Tobirama-sama's heir, as stated in his last will," the terrified Clan Heir gulped, knowing that he was as good as dead once he delivered this final blow. "The children are technically at the house of their legal guardian. They are at Kagami-kun’s house.”

The table burned to ashes.

Hikaku choked a terrified sob.

Dead. Uchiha Hikaku was a dead man.

 

* * *

 

Despite everything, the last blow to Izuna’s declining health  _and_ sanity actually came directly from Kagami himself. 

“Izuna-sama.”

Izuna turned around to face his former clan member—the now newly-crowned Clan Head of Tobirama Clan—and resisted the urge to sneer, having to keep up a mature and civil appearance here in the middle of a ceremony that gathered all Clan Head in Konoha. He already felt that some of them were looking at him with a condescending look—knowing that Kagami and a bunch of children have defected from  _his_ clan to create their own using the name of his deceased half-brother—and he refused to lose any more face in front of these people.

The Akimichi matriarch was eyeing him intently as if waiting for Izuna to snap and showed to the whole Konoha's council how unfitting he was to be the Clan Head worthy of replacing Tobirama.

Izuna could see Nara Shikako exchanging hushed whispers with Yamanaka Inomaru and Inuzuka Hitokuchi—their judgemental cynical gaze occasionally darted in Izuna’s direction.

He despised the way these people placed his bastard demon of an elder brother on a pedestal as if Tobirama was the only Uchiha deserving of their admiring respect. These people should realise that Izuna was the Uchiha’s Clan Head now.

Izuna deserved the respect befitting of his position as a Clan Head.

“Kagami- _sama_ ,” thus, Izuna greeted back in a civil purr, allowing a little bit of his spiteful venom laced their way into each of the syllables. "Congratulation on the formation of your new clan.”

“Thank you, Izuna-sama,” Kagami tipped his head, lips curled to a calm smile, his face was unreadable. “This is all Ayame-kun’s handiwork. She is the one who deserves your praise.”

“I did what I thought was the best for us, Kagami-sama,” the twelve-years-old girl (now offically the Clan Heir to the newly formed Tobirama clan) beamed, preening when Kagami’s hand landed on her head. “This is the best option for my siblings and I.”

Izuna held back a sneer.

It was unnerving, how similar Kagami’s presence was to Tobirama’s. The way the sixteen years old boy stood and carried himself despite his own blindness, the way Kagami spoke with a soft voice yet still commanded respect from the ones who heard his words and not to mention the air of lethal confidence that emitted from the boy—everything bore a form of resemblance to Tobirama.

It was unnerving. It was terrifying.

Izuna was uncomfortable.

“Izuna-sama,” Kagami’s voice was firm as he spoke, face slipped to a complete emotionless mask as he offered a worn leather-bound book to Izuna. “I wish you to have this."

Izuna cocked an eyebrow, despite knowing that Kagami could not see his expression.

To his surprise, Kagami let out a dry chuckle, as if the teen could  _see_ Izuna's expression and know exactly what emotion was raging inside him right now.

"Read it. Perhaps it will shed some light to your darkness,” the boy hummed, hands sliding into the sleeves of his official kimono as he added; “Maybe you could even get some sleep after reading it.”

Izuna’s ruby eyes shifted its angry gaze to glare at the boy.

“Finally admitting that you did something to me, brat?” Izuna hissed, chakra flared dangerously as his ruby eyes spun with dark tomoe.

The whole party room fell into silence. Hashirama's chakra flared in warning while Mito glided in their direction, eyes narrowed in disapproval.

Kagami smiled. “I didn’t do anything at all,” the teenage boy hummed, leaning close to Izuna until the Uchiha Clan Head could feel the heat from his skin. “Sharingan developed after an Uchiha experienced a strong emotion from a traumatic event,” he murmured, and Izuna felt chills, as if Kagami was glaring at him through those bandages.

But that was impossible. There was nothing inside Kagami’s eye sockets.

“You gained his abilities, Izuna-sama,” Kagami’s voice was that of a dangerous sneer, slender fingers reached up as if the teen was about to gouge Izuna’s eyes out.

Izuna backed away.

Kagami was smiling harmlessly when he delivered the final blow of this conversation.

“Thus, it is only fair if you experience his pain as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm going to end this by chapter 5. Promise. Chapter 5 is the epilogue.
> 
> Spiteful Hashirama is terrifying btw.


	4. To spite the dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. Read at your own risk. Author is sleepy.

The leather-bound journal rested tauntingly on his desk.

It has been there ever since Izuna returned from the officiating ceremony of Tobirama Clan, taunting him with its worn yet well-cared pages and the slanted script of Tobirama’s handwriting that was scrawled across the cover.

The slanted ‘ _Edo Tensei’_ taunted Izuna, making the Uchiha’s Clan Head fretted over his own curiosity to know what was written inside.

However, Kagami’s smug behaviour earlier halted his intention.

After the rather threatening comment the boy made about Izuna experiencing Tobirama’s pain, Izuna was bracing himself for a fight—Hashirama’s flaring chakra and the glowing chains in Mito’s sleeves be damned—but to his surprise, Kagami simply reached out a hand to brush his fingers below Izuna’s eyes, the quirk of his smirk almost seemed deceivingly harmless.

If Izuna’s heart stuttered and filled with relief once the boy stopped invading his personal space, Izuna was not going to admit it.

Though, in all seriousness, there was something eerily _wrong_ with Kagami ever since Tobirama died.

It felt like the boy was _slipping_.

Izuna did not even care much about the retarded child.

Thus, when even _Izuna_ noticed the subtle shifts in Kagami's behaviour, things might be more serious than one would initially think. The Clan Head couldn't point out the exact thing that made Kagami behaved even more wrong than the bizarre child who clung to the Uchiha Demon, but the shift was jarring.

It changed the child.

And it only has gone worse after Kagami defected from the clan.

The teenage boy grew _darker._ It wasn’t noticeable if one would only look at his smile, but there was a total hundred-eighty-degree shift in Kagami’s demeanour. The teen’s innocence was gone as an edged darkness haunted his usually cheerful demeanour. Kagami’s words started to be laced with subtle venom, his voice carried an intimidating drawl while his chakra flared with a hint of bitterness and hatred—

 _—especially_ when he was in close proximity to an Uchiha

Every Uchiha who had been in Kagami’s sensory range has gotten the taste of the bitter murderous flare of the teen’s chakra been directed towards them. It was the kind of hatred that was terrifyingly similar to the legend of Uchiha’s curse, and it made the clan wary of the boy, treading on a thin thread around the child with worries that one day Kagami would snap to complete insanity and turned on them.

It was very, very _nerve wrecking_. 

Izuna’s well-honed shinobi instinct did not allow him to relax in Kagami’s presence. Every sense in Izuna’s exhausted body tingled in high-alert if the sixteen-years-old boy so much shifted his weight and lifted his hands—the reasonable fear of high-speed unseen hand-signs that used to be the reason Tobirama was so feared by their enemies has made Izuna paranoid.

What if this journal was yet another elaborated attempt to destroy Izuna’s already tortured mind?

But the temptation—it was too strong.

Izuna _wants_ to know.

Thus, when Izuna’s curiosity won over his self-resistance and he finally sat down in front of his desk, gingerly flipping the journal open with cautious hands, Izuna wasn’t expecting that the journal would indeed be a torment to him—

—but in a completely different way than he expected.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 **_Laboratory Report : Edo Tensei_ ** ****

_Uchiha Tobirama_

****

 

* * *

****

 

Izuna read the title page with brief interest, flipping through the pages of hand-drawn seals and calculations with little to zero understanding. Despite the thorough paragraphs explaining each sign on the seal prototypes and how it would work once combined, Izuna did not understand a single thing about it. 

It’s all like ancient runes to him. He only saw squiggly lines and weird symbols been combined together in multiple version of seals. That’s it.

Thus, he just skimmed through the pages of the sketches, only raising an eyebrow upon noticing the repetition of same seals on different prototypes.

They were the heavenly seal and the earth seal.

Both seals emphasised on binding and grounding souls to the mortal worlds.

Souls.

Of the dead.

Ground the dead to the mortal world.

What even was Tobirama attempting to do?

Curious, Izuna skipped straight to the last section of the journal—the distinct red marker that poked out of the edges told him that it was the personal reflection diary that Tobirama wrote throughout the whole development progress of the jutsu.

The journal has another section detailing the actual development of the jutsu, but since it was all ancient runes to Izuna, he didn’t even bother to read it. This reflection diary section won’t have that kind of complicated elaboration, right? It’s a _diary_ after all.

Perhaps it was written in the language that Izuna could comprehend.

Izuna’s a shinobi. Shinobi did not need a high-level linguistic competency since their job scope was mainly to do the dirty deeds of other people from the depth of the shadow.

They were not meant to be seen, let alone to use the kinds of weird jargon that filled a good half of this journal.

At this rate, Tobirama was just showing off to his readers.

Izuna ran a finger over the cover page of the section, absent-mindedly tracing the slanted script of Tobirama’s handwriting over the page.

Inhaling a deep breath, he started to read.

 

 

* * *

__

 

 _Picking up the development of this jutsu from where it was stopped. All notes have to be revised again for accuracy. Refer to surviving scraps for a start and look for any remains that Father might miss._

_Additional note : Retrieve samples from the clan’s record. The keepers should still keep the heirs’ umbilical cords._

_~~Forgive me, Tou-san. Kakashi. But I have to do this…for **him.**~~ _

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna frowned at the very first entry. 

The date struck him like a bucket of cold water washing down his chest, smothering his heart with pure chills as that little traitorous part within him—the one that shamefully _dared_ to feel pity and guilt towards Tobirama—trembled in horrified anticipation.

The date was Izuna’s own birthday after all.

He remembered this date.

He was fourteen. Senju Butsuma just died the week prior and Tobirama has just been crowned as the Clan Heir not two days beforehand.

Izuna celebrated his fourteenth birthday brimming with spite and anger. He remembered sulking in Jiro’s old room, hugging his brother’s urn tight in his chest and ranted his heart out to the ashes of his elder brother. The spite was still brimming up to till this day—Izuna’s wounded ego after being denied the rights to be Tajima’s heir because of that half-bred bastard still fuelled his hatred to his half-brother—and reading this only served to fling Izuna back into the hatred.

Then, he frowned in utter confusion, finally realising that Tobirama was behaving strangely at that time.

Was this the reason? He was behaving strangely because of his research?

Back then, Izuna was too deep in his spite to notice. He thought that the demon was trying to annoy him.

Oh, he did remember Tobirama’s shifty stare in his direction—the ruby eyes stared owlishly a bit off to Izuna’s own eyes—even when Izuna shot his elder brother an impatient get-on-with-it-already look. Izuna remembered Tobirama tried to approach him after his coronation ceremony (to gloat, no doubt) as the demon dared to _disrupt_ Izuna’s grieving of Jiro.

Izuna was irritated for the whole week.

Tobirama was _everywhere_. He took Izuna's flank in the dinner hall, acting like a complete idiot while Izuna's appetite soured every time the bastard demon opened his mouth only to shut it again without saying any word. He was at the training ground the exact time Izuna chose to train—ruby eyes darted distractingly in Izuna's direction, only to be averted when Izuna channelled a glare as a response. Tobirama was in the bathhouse when Izuna wanted to soak in the steaming hot water—and if the demon looked a bit dejected when Izuna snarled at his offer to wash Izuna's back, it was none of Izuna's concern.

Tobirama must be an idiot if he thought protecting Tajima by killing Senju Butsuma would change anything in their relationship.

It took a very annoyed Izuna to snap at Tobirama to leave him alone right in front of the whole clan to make the demon stopped his pestering.

If Izuna had hidden his mournful tears as he claimed that the demon would never come close to Jiro (so could Tobirama please fuck the hell off??)—no one who witnessed the scene dared to comment anything.

Izuna shook his head at the memories, embarrassed with his teenage-self. The slip of his emotions back then was one of the few things that he regretted. It was shameful—to show to the half-bred demon that he was still weak whenever his dead brother was mentioned—and such moment of weaknesses would have been the death of him should Tobirama ever used it against Izuna.

Tobirama retreated into his ‘study’ after that. No one ever saw him again until the next battle against the Senju.

Or rather, no one cared to look for him. 

Tajima was the only one who did seek for the demon, but after the first few days, he relented and allowed his half-bred son to retreat into the isolation of his lab.

Izuna traced his fingers over the fine handwriting, wondering if this was what Tobirama was up to during his isolation.

 _Freak_.

Drowning the rising spite in his chest, Izuna let his gaze wandered to the second entry and continued reading.

 

 

* * *

 

  

There was nothing too interesting about the second entry. Tobirama talked about his search for the scraps of his notes that Tajima might have missed. Apparently, he had snuck out of the clan’s compound to make a quick journey to his childhood home with the aim of looking for any surviving notes of his that he managed to hide in his little brother’s coffin. 

Izuna scowled at the slanted script.

He knew that Tobirama has no honour whatsoever, but to disrespect their father’s will and disturb the grave of his own little brother—

—well, it wasn’t that surprising. Izuna always knew that Tobirama was a demon who has no understanding of how human’s society works.

Tajima deemed it fit to destroy Tobirama’s notes on this jutsu. It must have been really bad.

Izuna huffed and returned to his reading.                                                                                                     

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tobirama mentioned the name of his dead brother only twice in the total ten entries that Izuna has read so far. 

The first time he wrote it was in the first entry, crossed out by a single straight line—a fleeting mention that Izuna didn't bother to pay attention to. The second time the demon wrote the name was in the form of a squiggly script so unlike his perfect handwriting in the previous entries before the sentences were crossed out and smudged so horribly it was almost impossible to read. The page was the most incoherent page in the journal, dirtied with smudged ink that the only read-able words were the first few words mentioning the name of the demon's deceased brother and the cluster of phrases that didn't make sense at all.  

 _Kakashi_.

Izuna merely cocked a disinterest brow at the name of his supposed _other_ half-brother.

If his nightmares were not a genjutsu, he assumed that this was the name of the dead boy he saw in his first nightmare. The silver-haired boy that died the day Tobirama first awakened his sharingan.

It felt odd to have a name to the dead boy that haunted his sleep. It caused discomfort, a strange twisting feeling in his chest that ached like bruises—it wasn’t that significant, but the ache was noticeable.

A name made the dead boy _real._

A name reminded Izuna that the boy’s death was as real as Jiro’s death.

A name made Izuna reluctantly accepted that Tobirama’s grief was as painful as his own.

As if the entry itself was not proof of his grief.

The paperwork during Tobirama's reign always has a perfect script—not a smudge of ink nor any missed strokes of the brush. His words were perfectly arranged with strange beauty that nobody expected from a hard-edged shinobi.  

This entry was the exact opposite of that. The read-able words were arranged in such erratic manner that one would have thought that the writer was slipping into insanity the moment this was written. It was smudged here and there; some words could not even be read due to the way the ink smeared over the paper as if someone accidentally let the words encountered an unnecessary amount of water. Some sentences were crossed out so violently Izuna could see the ink seeping to the next page as the paper thinned under the forceful writing.

Izuna immediately squashed the image that his mind decided to conjure.

No. No no no no no no no.

Such images would only make the demon appeared _human_.

Izuna didn’t want that. The images gave him breathing difficulties, made his chest hurt and uncomfortable as they lodged something huge and heavy in his throat.

However, he couldn’t stop his own imagination.

Izuna closed his eyes and saw his half-brother hunched over this very journal, tears dripped down the pale cheeks to smudge the perfect script on the dry paper.

Izuna didn’t like the twisting discomfort in his chest.

He didn’t like it all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the diary was filled with short detached paragraphs. 

It seemed like Tobirama refused any more slips as he did in the incoherent entry. The rest of his entries that followed his break down was written with a detached tone, mainly summarising the detailed entries of his actual progress report. Izuna has opted to cross-check both sections and ended up with the conclusion that the rest of Tobirama's supposed personal entries was mainly a dumbed-down version of his progress report.

Thank Sage for that.

Izuna did not understand a thing in the progress report section. This dumbed-down version was actually helpful to the young Clan Head as he attempted to figure out what the hell Tobirama was up to and why the fuck Kagami deemed that reading this journal would shed some light to Izuna’s supposed darkness.

By the time he reached the entries dated at the third year of Edo Tensei’s development, Izuna has reached a conclusion that his half-brother was extremely scary, and it was a relief that he was gone.

An army of the dead.

Tobirama was creating a jutsu to reanimate the dead.

As much as the appeal of upgrading their military prowess with an army of indestructible undead was incredibly tempting, the process to reanimate a dead person made Izuna squirmed in discomfort.

If they wished to have a thousand men in their undead army, they needed to sacrifice living humans of the same number to realise that wish.

It was a dishonourable thing to do, even for a shinobi.

The uncomfortable twisting of guilt and grief in Izuna’s chest eased up to its original indifference state—

—until he saw the single line in Tobirama’s last entry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Edo Tensei is complete—Uchiha Jiro is successfully reanimated._

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna's first reaction was a horrified shock. 

Then, the confusion.

_Why?_

Why would Tobirama reanimate Izuna’s brother but not his own?        

Why reanimate Jiro but not Kakashi?

Izuna let his gaze fell on the open pages of the journal, exhausted groggy mind spinning with theories as he tried to make sense of Tobirama’s behaviour.

None of this made sense.

Then, it finally dawned to him that the demon has disturbed the peace of Jiro’s eternal rest.

Izuna raged.

_How dare he?!_

He was extremely close to setting the journal on fire but managed to refrain from doing so.

He needed proof of the cause of his reasonable anger if Hashirama decided to crash into his house and interfere with his act of spite.

Izuna’s vision was tinted red—whether it was his pure anger, or it was his sharingan he did not know—as he has all but stormed to the locked and untouched room of his deceased half-brother, determined to burn that part of the house to the ground.

He gritted his teeth in pure wrath when the seals rejected him, warning sparks of Tobirama’s raiton chakra sent tingles upon his fingertips but Izuna braced on. His anger overpowered his sense of pain and he persisted, chakra flaring in pure wrath to force the door open.

The door didn’t budge.

Izuna hissed, scowling in distaste as his gaze fell on his scorched hand—the burn was painful, but it wasn’t as painful as the thought that Tobirama dared to disturb Jiro’s rest—

( _Even though Izuna felt the disappointment rising up his chest because he did not know this. He did not know that his beloved Nii-chan was reanimated. He did not know that he has missed the opportunity to meet his Nii-chan again, to hear Jiro’s voice for one last time because Tobirama deemed it fit to keep this a **secret** ….)_

Despite the horrible burn in his hands, Izuna braced the pain and weaved the hand-signs for a Great Fireball jutsu, filling his lungs with fiery chakra.

He almost choked on his own chakra when the door suddenly swung open and there was a hand reaching out to press over his mouth, halting his intention to burn Tobirama’s room mid-breath. Izuna swallowed, feeling the burn of the beginning of the katon jutsu washed over his throat in a simmering wave that caused him to cough in pain.

The hand that was covering his mouth retreated.

Izuna heaved a pained breath and looked down with a distasteful growl.

“ _Izu-chan_.”

And he suddenly felt like he was five again.                       

Despite the fact that he was a good two feet taller than the boy, Izuna felt like a child again—helpless and confused. A soft whimper tore out of his throat upon meeting the pitch-black eyes, the whimper turned to a confused choking noise as he recognised the unique pattern of the Mangekyou—a sure sign that this was no impostor. He recognised the fair skin—though the one he remembered was smeared with blood instead of decorated with these hairline cracks—and he couldn't tear his gaze from the slightly exasperated smile on the boy's face.

It was a smile so painfully similar to his childhood memories.  

Izuna crumpled onto his knees, his exhausted mind was rendered numb with utter confusion. His throat was sore from the sudden halt of his fireball while his hand was scorched—tingling with sparks of raiton chakra. Confused and in pain, Izuna vaguely registered the small arms that wrapped around the breadth of his shoulders, nor did he notice the exasperated sigh that slipped past the boy's mouth. He barely felt the small arms pulled him close to the skinny chest that smelt of death and dust, his mind was sluggish with shock and confusion.

“Good to see you grow up so handsome, otoutou.”

Even the voice was the same as the last time he heard it twenty-three years ago.

Izuna whimpered, burying his face to the cold collarbone, shaky arms came up to return the embrace. He clutched the small body tight—fear racked his whole body.

He feared that this was just a cruel dream cast by Kagami to torture him.

He feared that the body in his hold will crumble to dust the moment he let his guard down.

“How?” Izuna spoke, voice quiet and small. “Nii-chan, how—"

Jiro hummed, resting his chin over Izuna’s shoulder.

“Our brother is a genius. That’s how.”

Izuna didn’t see the punch coming before it sent him across the hallway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Time was meaningless and fleeting for the dead. 

If Tobirama’s age was any indicator, it has been almost eleven years since Jiro’s reanimation.

It has been eleven years, yet Jiro did not feel the passing of the time. It didn’t feel that long to him—in his eyes, Tobirama was the one who aged so quickly, and it was not the time who has passed without him realising it.

Though that didn't mean that the reanimated Uchiha did not notice that it has been so long since his silver-haired brother returned to this room. He was used to hearing Tobirama's silent footsteps walking into the room, the privacy ward flaring up in his presence and Jiro would take that as a sign that he could come out of his hiding place to greet his half-brother with a pat to the marked cheeks.

Sometimes, Jiro wondered if his presence here only tortured Tobirama’s mind with guilt.

But an Uchiha was typically stubborn to the core, and Jiro refused to be sent back to the afterlife until these two brats that he has the misfortune of being related to finally sorted their shit together.

Once Tobirama has done explaining Jiro’s current predicament as a reanimated corpse (as well as the masochistic brat’s plan to reunite Jiro with their very much spoiled and bratty baby brother as Izuna’s seventeenth birthday gift), the first thing that Jiro did was to punch that socially awkward and impossibly kind brat across the face.

Tobirama risked his own morals, suffered through the heavy guilt of sacrificing a life—although it was an enemy nin, but to sacrifice a life for personal gain was different from killing in the battlefield and Jiro knew how much it haunted Tobirama—carrying the sin and guilt on his young shoulders for the sake of making Izuna happy.

Despite _everything_.

Jiro has dramatically blasted himself with a bunch of paper bombs once Tobirama ended his explanation. He didn’t need a detailed version of the story. The exhausted hunch and dejected ruby eyes told him enough. And he was _done_.

Done.

Not even a few hours have passed since his reanimation, Uchiha Jiro was already so done with his troublesome baby brothers.

How the hell Tobirama still has the patience to accept Izuna’s brattiness was beyond the dead Uchiha’s comprehension. Tobirama was either impossibly kind-hearted or a masochist to accept the abuse from his own baby brother with that resigned glaze in his eyes.

Jiro would have dunked the brat into the pond if he was the one in Tobirama’s place. Repeatedly. Until Izuna learnt his lessons.

They were at _war_. Every living family member should be cherished and loved, no matter the circumstances of their birth. This pointless war has taken so many lives that it would be stupid for anyone to outcast one of their own just because he was not born fully from the clan.

(Plus, if the Uchiha clan has some sort of common sense, acknowledging Tajima’s marriage to the middle princess of the Hatake clan was equal to an alliance. The Hatake was fiercely loyal to their allies, and their sensory abilities would be proven advantageous if partnered with sharingan.

Was his clan always lacking common sense or this was an occurrence that started after Jiro’s death?)

Once his reanimated body fixed itself, Jiro stood on tip-toes to pinch Tobirama’s cheek, bringing the tall teen down to his level with all the force his reanimated fourteen years old body could muster. He hadn’t had the chance to hit his growth spurt before his untimely death—and Uchiha’s men are generally not as tall as Hatake’s men anyway—thus the shocked squeak that Tobirama let out made Jiro’s cold lips curled in a grim prideful smile.

“Jiro-san?” Tobirama squeaked, arms flailing when he tried to brace the sudden shift in his gravity centre as the teenage Clan Head ended up kneeling in front of the reanimated corpse instead, his left cheek was still held hostage in the Jiro’s grip. “Izuna is—"

“Brat,” Jiro growled, pulling the soft cheek in his grip. “I may look younger than you in this body, but I was 14 when you were seven.”

Tobirama loudly swallowed, ruby eyes looked up to meet Jiro’s pitch-black eyes—childlike wonder swam in those hopeful eyes.

Jiro’s lips curled to an authoritative smile. “Address me properly, _otoutou_.”

The disbelieving hopeful shock on the abnormally pale face was worth the thought that Jiro was not going back to the afterlife and be with his family members. He would miss his parents, step-mother and other brothers in the wonderful afterlife, but these brats needed help and since he was already here, he should fulfil his duties to his baby brothers before he could even think to rest in peace.

He would consider this mission as an extended vacation in the mortal world.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His extended vacation in the mortal world would have been shorter if only Tobirama was not a brat too.

But noooo. If one would think that the sharingan was the only family resemblance between Izuna and Tobirama, Jiro has prepared a long-winded rant to counter that opinion.

Jiro cursed the Uchiha’s gene for giving him two incredibly stubborn brats as baby brothers.

Brats. These brats were going to be the death of him.

And Jiro was already dead to begin with.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna clutched his throbbing cheek with a dazed glaze in his eyes. 

His eyes were wet, yet his cheeks were dry as he stared at the reanimated form of his beloved elder brother with utter shock and confusion. Jiro’s eyes spun in vicious Mangekyou, the curl of his lips made Izuna gulped as his mind wandered back to the memories of a long time ago where he has displeased his beloved Nii-chan enough to warrant a forced dip in the closest body of water available.

“Nii-chan?” Izuna blurted out, voice edging the note of hopeful hysteria.

“I would’ve dunked you in a pond, Izu-chan,” Jiro smiled brightly, all leaking out cheeriness and innocent joy. “But there is none available,” he hummed, stomping towards the sprawled Izuna.

Izuna barely registered the weight of his reanimated brother straddling his torso before a yowl escaped his throat when fingers that tasted of death and dust hooked the corners of his mouth, cold knuckles trapped his cheeks in an unforgiving grip.

Jiro showed no mercy while pulling his cheeks.

“Nii-chan!!” Izuna yowled, tears pricking his eyes.

No, not tears of pain. He has had injuries more painful than this.

It was tears of joy—because he missed this interaction dearly.

"You spoiled little brat," Jiro started, squeezing the warm flesh in his hands without mercy. "Twenty-three years. It has been twenty-three years since my death. Twenty-three years since Tobi come into your life. Twenty-three years since you lost a brother and gained another. It has been twenty-three years and you're still that five-years-old spoiled brat that needs to be dunked into the nearest pond."

Izuna blinked a few times, clearing his gaze from the tears. “I’m the Clan Head,” the words came slurred due to his predicament of being trapped in Jiro’s grip. “Am not a brat.”

Jiro rolled his eyes. “I beg to differ.”

Izuna didn't have the chance to retort because the cold small hands that were abusing his cheeks and mouth moved away to grip his chin. Jiro's face fell to a cold calculative expression—it was the kind of face that he made during training; the face he made when he was serious. Izuna's face was tilted up, ruby eyes met vicious crimson spinning in the black sclera and Izuna _fell_.

Izuna fell into the memories of his dead brothers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You could have done this sooner, you know?” 

Jiro snorted, gently closing Izuna’s eyes, knowing that unlike his, Izuna’s would be vulnerable to drying if he left them open like this. He stood and dusted his clothes, the deep blue fabric stretched over his frame and Jiro’s eyes softened at the faint scent of his half-brother that still clung to the fabric.

“If I did this sooner, Izuna wouldn’t believe it,” he hummed, stepping around Izuna’s prone form to stand in front of the exasperated man. “He would think that Tobi used me as a puppet to win him over. He would deny, deny, and deny and Tobi would be hurt even more,” Jiro huffed, staring up to meet the narrowed dark eyes. “Izuna didn’t have that excuse now that Tobi is _gone_.”

“ _Gone_ , you say…,” the man grumbled, bending down to lift Izuna into his arms. “Yet you’re still here…”

Jiro smiled. "Now, now, Hashi-kun," he purred, running to catch up with Hashirama's larger stride as they returned to Izuna's room. "I keep my existence exclusive to the knowledge of selected few only. I want to be able to return to the afterlife in peace once these brats sort themselves out."

Hashirama sighed, placing Izuna’s body on the untouched bed, dark eyes darted to stare into Jiro’s abnormal eyes with unveiled fear.

“I’m glad that Tobirama is no longer my enemy,” the Hokage muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. “If we’re still at war…,” he murmured, voice hitching in hysteria. “I don’t think I can take it if I have to fight my deceased brothers as enemies.”

Jiro reached out a hand to pat the man’s shoulder, eyes softening.

“Even if there was no peace between our clans, Tobi would not do that,” he soothed, small fingers curled around the solid mass of Hashirama’s bicep. “You have known him as a person, Hashi. You know what kind of man he is. He would not stoop that low no matter how desperate the Uchiha is.”

“Yet he kept you here.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jiro hummed, pitch black eyes gleamed in mischief. “He has no choice. I refuse to be sent back to the afterlife until my brothers started acting like brothers,” he huffed, crossing his arms, face scrunched up to a scowl. “Or until Tobirama grew a spine and be more assertive against the bullshit this clan has made him went through,” Jiro added after a while, his scowl deepened. “Which he refused to do so. That masochistic brat.”

Hashirama huffed a quiet laugh. “Menace,” he said, reaching a hand to brush the hair away from Jiro’s cold skin. “You’re a menace,” he repeated, shaking his head in pure amusement. “I knew I was justified to fear you back then.”

“You’re more terrifying, Hashirama.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Jiro-san,” Hashirama countered with a soft voice, memories reeling back to the time when they were at war against each other. “You almost killed Touka.”

"That harpy menace who took the form of a cute girl?" Jiro pondered, and despite his words, the curve of his lips was fond and dazed. "She is very breath-taking."

Hashirama promptly decided to change the subject. He did not wish to dwell in the what-ifs, knowing Touka’s phase of denial after her close call with Uchiha Tajima’s eldest son. He did not want to speculate whether Touka would break her vow of not getting married if Jiro was alive. The what-ifs would cost him the peace of his mind.

Thus, the Hokage tipped his head in Izuna’s direction, schooling his face to a curious expression as he changed the subject;

“May I know what you showed him?”

Jiro flashed his teeth in a devious grin.

“My memories.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god that this and the next chapter was originally one single chapter. Then it gotten so long and I was like, fuck the plan.
> 
> Enjoy


	5. To embrace the dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. I'm sleepy. Read at your own risk.

 

In the eleven years since Tobirama reanimated him, Jiro has made lots of memories with his silver-haired brother.

Those were the memories that he showed to Izuna.

 

* * *

 

 

 _“I TOLD YOU TO DUNK THAT UNGRATEFUL BRAT IN THIS RIVER, TOBI.”_

_“Anija,” Tobirama sighed, wiping a hand across his brows. “That wouldn’t make him hate me any less. I fear that indulging your suggestion will only distance Izuna further from me.”_

_“He tried to assassinate you!” Jiro growled in sheer frustration, wading his way through the water to tug his masochistic baby brother down. “He tried to slay you in the middle of a battle—where he was supposed to guard **your** back.”_

_“He has no obligation to guard me,” Tobirama hummed, shoulders relaxing under the ministration of the cold hands. “The Clan Head is the one who supposed to protect everyone, not the other way around.”_

_Jiro rolled his eyes, pressing a bit too harsh on the knot near Tobirama’s shoulder blades, earning a blissful hiss from the supposed younger brother. “If they have any sense of loyalty to their leader, they should know to guard your back while you faced the foes in front,” the corpse grumbled, skimming his hand gently over the bruises on Tobirama’s ribs, internally ranting about selfless idiotic baby brother who put others’ well-being before his own._

_The little brat was too exhausted to heal his own injuries yet still have time to worry about Izuna’s injuries._

_Even after Izuna tried to assassinate him._

_Logic did not exist in Tobirama’s head whenever Izuna was concerned._

_At some point of their routine after-battle check-up and ministration, Tobirama has leant his back to Jiro’s front, shoulders started to relax, ruby eyes closed trustingly when the supposed elder brother between the two reached out for the shampoo on the rock next to them._

_It was peaceful silence before Tobirama broke it with yet another plea._

_“You know, he would have been different and happier if only you agreed to meet him, Anija-sama—”_

_“Don’t you Anija-sama me, you masochistic brat,” Jiro snapped, dumping the bucket of water over Tobirama’s head.  “If I meet him **now** , he wouldn’t even spare a glance in your direction,” he hissed, gritting his teeth as he threaded his slippery hands through the wet silver hair. “You know that he will treat you even worse than now if he thinks that he has me back. He would treat you like you did not exist—like how one would treat a ghost.”_

_“I’m fine with that,” Tobirama murmured, bowing his head as Jiro’s fingers made their way through his hair, ruby eyes completely hidden under his drenched hair. “As long as our otoutou is happy, I’m fine being a ghost by his side.”_

_“Brat, last time I checked, I’m the dead one.”_

_“I will trade my life for yours. I would do it anytime, if I could, Anija. For the sake of Izuna’s happiness. I would exchange my life to give you back to him,” Tobirama countered, turning around so that he could meet Jiro’s frustrated gaze. “He loves you. He hates me. You’re the source of his comfort, even after decades since your death,” Tobirama swallowed, voice raw and shaky as he added; “I’m his fear,” he placed a pale hand over the corpse’s mouth when Jiro opened it to speak. “I could see it in his eyes, Anija. He feared me. I tried to heal him, and he thought that I was going to kill him—”_

_Tobirama’s hands slipped down to fist on his naked thighs under the calm water._

_“Yet you still heal that ungrateful brat,” Jiro sneered, reaching out for the washcloth and soap on the nearby rock. “He tried to kill you, and did you teach that brat any lesson?” he huffed, aggressively scrubbing the tensed back underneath his palms. “Noooo. Tobirama-sama, THE Uchiha Demon, the feared Clan Head of the Uchiha, loves his baby brother way too much that he let the ungrateful brat gets away unscathed after committing an **assassination** attempt on his own life. He even healed the brat from his injuries—"_

_"I couldn't bear the thought of him in pain, Anija," Tobirama quirked the tiniest of a smile, staring at his glowing hands sadly._

_"Wounds like that would not kill a shinobi like us, Tobi," Jiro growled. "You spoiled Izuna way too much."_

_Tobirama huffed a quiet laugh. “It is my duty as his elder brother to spoil him.”_

_Jiro threw his arms in the air before he angrily dunked Tobirama’s head into the water. By the time Tobirama has resurfaced with shampoo suds still trailing down his hair to his shoulder, Jiro was already out of the river and was fumbling for Tobirama’s weapon supplies on the rock to retrieve his much-needed paper bombs._

 

* * *

 

 

Bless Edo Tensei for giving him indestructible body. Blasting himself with paper bombs would not have been a satisfying stress-relief if he could not reform his body again. 

Baby brothers were such a headache.

Even to the undead.

No.

 _Especially_ to the undead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna was confused. 

He was confused and freaked out. He was aware that this was an illusion that Jiro created, but he did not understand why he couldn't break out of it. His Eternal Mangekyou should have been able to free him from this illusion, yet Izuna was still trapped. It was like his own sharingan refused to cooperate with him as if the accursed ruby eyes in his skull wanted him to remain in the illusion and witnessed everything.

As if watching his beloved Nii-chan assisting Tobirama to bath was not freaky enough.

Jiro was so obviously dead and reanimated—the black sclera of his eyes and the hairline cracks on his skin were proof enough—but his behaviour was the same as when he was alive. The way he assisted Tobirama bathing was the exact same as how Izuna used to assist Jiro after yet another battle that the elder has survived. All the love and fondness that were masked underneath irritated grumbles, playful dunking into the water and rough-housing were the exact same.

The only difference was that Tobirama was the one at the receiving end of Jiro's grumbling affection.

Izuna felt the jealousy rose up his chest.

But then, he watched the way Jiro's eyes softened as the elder shampooed Tobirama's hair and all that he felt was longing, remembering the days he would happily brave the cold water of the river to have those hands in his own hair.

Jiro treated Tobirama the exact same way he treated Izuna.

_Why?_

Izuna stepped closer to the pair, wanting to shake Jiro’s shoulder and asked what the hell the elder was thinking acting so familiar with the half-bred bastard but—

" _I will trade my life for yours. I would do it anytime, if I could, Anija. For the sake of Izuna’s happiness. I would exchange my life to give you back to him.”_

Izuna halted at the edge of the river.

Suddenly it was too difficult to swallow. The sincere words felt like a fresh wound in his chest, the strange pain rung in his ears, turning the voices of his dead brothers to muted buzz around him as he stood there at the riverside—Tobirama’s words were the only thing that he could hear.

_“I will trade my life for yours.”_

_“I would do it anytime, if I could, Anija.”_

_“For the sake of Izuna’s happiness.”_

_“I would exchange my life to give you back to him.”_

Izuna clutched the fabric right atop his heart, the raw sincerity of those words sliced through his heart like a white-hot knife, leaving guilt and regret in its wake. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he could not find any lies in those words.

Tobirama was willing to give up his own life to bring Jiro back.

Because that would make Izuna happy.

Izuna was only able to see Jiro dunked Tobirama into the river before he was pulled away—the surrounding faded in hypnotic swirls as he was thrown to a new environment.

_“I think Kagami is basically my nephew now.”_

Izuna stood in silence, briefly noting the tidy bedroom that could only belong to Tobirama before he frowned in more confusion at the bucket of blood by Jiro's side.

Tobirama huffed a quiet laugh, voice weak and raspy as he curled on Jiro’s lap, one shaky pale hand clutched on the corpse’s hand with clinging desperation. Izuna folded his knees next to Tobirama’s curled up form, brows furrowed in wonder and confusion because he has never seen his half-brother looked so weak and hurt like this. He watched the beads of sweat on the pale forehead, noticed the trembles of Tobirama’s body, heard the pained gasps that tore out of Tobirama’s throat—all the little human things that he has never seen on the demon.

Izuna jerked away when Tobirama lurched from his curl on Jiro’s lap, the silver-haired man passed through Izuna as he fumbled for the bucket, folding his body to half as dark blood spew out of his mouth into the wooden container.

 _“For you to suffer for the boy’s sake…,”_ Jiro murmured, rubbing his hand across Tobirama’s hunched back. _“You love him like he is your own, don’t you?”_

 _“He is the only one willing to openly love a demon,”_ Tobirama rasped, body trembling like leaves being blown by the harsh autumn breeze. _“I could not let the poor child be sacrificed after the kindness he showed me.”_

Izuna watched in interest, wondering when exactly this fragment of memories happened. He didn’t recall that any of the assassination attempts using poisons ever worked on Tobirama, thus seeing the silver-haired man like this—obviously suffering from a very potent poison—was a bizarre thing.

 _"What has become of my clan?"_ Jiro sighed, squeezing his pitch-black eyes shut. _“To use a child without care…”_

 _“Kagami would be a collateral damage if this attempt failed,”_ Tobirama huffed, crawling back to curl on Jiro’s lap. _“I can sense poison. Kagami could not. The elders knew I would not reject any gifts from my children. If any of my kids gave me their poisoned candy, I would swallow it in a heartbeat.”_

Izuna’s eyes widened.

He was not aware of this.

 _“You could have pretended to eat it,”_ Jiro growled, brushing stray silver strands from the sweat-damped forehead. _“You’re a shinobi. Act like it.”_

 _“They’re shinobi too,”_ Tobirama countered. _“Young and barely trained they were, but they were born as shinobi,”_ he coughed, retching dark blood into the bucket, eyes squeezed shut in pain. _“And they always have their eyes on me, anticipating my reactions to their gifts,”_ when he opened his eyes again, the ruby orbs were exhausted and drained, yet the determined gleam still shone fierce. _“I refuse to allow them the knowledge that they were used as an agent to assassinate me. I can handle some pain.”_

 _“Was that also the reason you risked yourself intercepting all the punishment that Izuna was supposed to receive?”_ Jiro mused, swiping a gentle finger at the corner of Tobirama’s mouth.

Two pairs of ruby eyes widened upon hearing that.

“What?!” Izuna shouted, standing to loom over his brothers.

At the same time, Tobirama braced his body with shaky arms, voice was a pained rasp when he mouthed, _“How did you—?”_

 _“Being a reanimation means that my presence can easily blend in with the surrounding, dear otoutou,”_ Jiro said with a grim voice. _“You created this jutsu with half the intention of having perishable spies.”_

Tobirama lowered his gaze.

 _“I know the elders,”_ Jiro spoke, voice cold like his dead body. _“Izuna’s continuous failures of assassinating you should warrant him a few ‘accidents’ to encourage him to not repeat the failure. I have been keeping an eye on both of you.”_

 _“That explains everything_ ,” Tobirama murmured, looking up to send a grateful smile in Jiro’s direction. _“Thank you, Anija_.”

 _“It’s my duty,_ ” Jiro hummed, black inhuman eyes held Tobirama’s glazed eyes in a stern gaze. _“But you’re more committed to it, it seems.”_

Tobirama crumpled on the floor in defeated resignation, weakened body trembled as his glazed ruby eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

 _“It’s our duty as elder brothers to protect him,”_ the silver-haired murmured, eyes fluttering shut. _“You would do anything in your power to protect him too.”_

 _“I know,”_ he quirked a smirk, gently poking the marked cheek, causing the closed ruby eyes to flutter open to shot him an annoyed gaze. _“Even **I** do not have the patience of a saint like you. I would've dunked Izuna in a pond if he dared to speak to me as he speaks to you." _

Izuna winced at the phantom chills of being hurled into a pond.

Jiro has no tolerance whatsoever to bratty rudeness. The elder didn't discriminate when it came to that. Every teenagers and child of Jiro's age already knew to watch their attitude while speaking to their parents or elder siblings whenever he was around, else they will find themselves to be hurled into the nearest body of water.

 _“Your love towards water is amusing, Anija_ ,” Tobirama mused, voice slipping weaker as his eyes fluttered shut again. _“One would have thought that as a suiton nature, **I** would be the one who enjoyed water the most.”_

 _“Your love to Izuna is terrifying, otoutou,”_ Jiro countered, running his fingers through Tobirama’s silver hair. _“One would have thought that as his brother from the same mother, **I** would be the one who has the kind of devotion you have to him." _

_“He is my only living brother,”_ Tobirama hummed, voice slurred with pain and exhaustion. _“My last brother_ , _”_ he murmured, burying his face to Jiro’s lap.

Izuna leant closer to hear Tobirama’s muffled words.

_“Break me apart. Tear me to pieces. Kill me and set my body on fire—but do not touch my little brother.”_

The world spun before Izuna could even reach his hands towards Tobirama.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a full day later when Hashirama received a message from Jiro that Izuna was finally awake. 

Awake, but would not be coming to work.

Hashirama allowed it. Everyone needed time to grieve, even after a year too late. He has seen Jiro’s memories the day he discovered the reanimated Uchiha. He knew the depth of Tobirama’s love to his little brother—a love that was even deeper than Hashirama’s own love to Madara—and for Izuna, who has been antagonising Tobirama throughout their years growing up together, the memories would be a heavy mental blow.

Moreover, now that Izuna thought that Tobirama was gone for good.                   

Hashirama felt his own lips twitched to a smirk.

“Hokage-sama?”

Hashirama instantly schooled his face to a solemn face, channelling his inner Tobirama to the cowering pre-teens in front of him.

"Children," he started, clasping his hands in front of him and stared at the students of his dear friend with a stern gaze. "Even though Kumo took one of our leaders, it is still wrong to sacrifice their ninja for your personal gain. All prisoner of war should be taken and handed to T&I department after capture," Hashirama levelled a look at the depressed Danzou, before shifting his gaze to the rest of the children. "What you did was wrong, but in the lights of the impact of our loss to you personally, I understood your reasoning," he gave a grim nod when the children's head snapped up to stare at him with hopeful bewilderement. "You will be suspended from active missions until further notice, and you're required to assist with the construction of Shinobi Academy without pay as your punishment. Did I make myself clear?"   

There was a brief silence.

“Wait, that’s it?” Utatane Koharu blurted out, jaw gaping in disbelief.

"Would you prefer the actual punishment of jail time and death sentence, then?" Hashirama tilted his head, contemplative.

The girl promptly closed her mouth and hunched her shoulders smaller. “No, sir,” she shook her head slowly. “Thank you for your mercy, Hokage-sama.”

“Good,” Hashirama nodded like the mature adult he was not, before waving his dismissal to the children. “Report to your captain tomorrow to start your punishment. As for now, you are dismissed.”

It took a few seconds for the team to scramble out of his office, although Hashirama knew that they were waiting just outside the door, piling over each other to eavesdrop in case he would make further comment about their failed attempt to reanimate their sensei back. Holding back a laughter, Hashirama activated the privacy seals of his office.

From her perch on the couch, Mito rolled her eyes but did not stop her deft work on the other half of his paperwork.

“Darling,” she started.

“Yes, my love~?”

“You’re one spiteful menace,” the Uzumaki princess commented, placing her brush in its stand with graceful care as she shifted a bit to allow her childish fiancé to curl by her side. “ _Terrifying_ ,” she drawled dryly.

“I do not want to give them false hope,” Hashirama whined, lips curled to a pout as he rested his head on Mito’s lap. “Until we hear from Madara, I’m not leading them on with false hope.”

“At this point, our suspicion has already been confirmed,” Mito countered, running her delicate painted fingers through Hashirama’s hair. “Jiro-san’s unbroken Edo Tensei contract. Shimura’s failed Edo Tensei. Madara’s last intel,” she listed down, huffing delicately. “It all led to one conclusion.”

Hashirama grinned.

“I think we both could agree that Izuna-kun deserves to suffer for a little bit longer.”

Mito rolled her eyes. Her future husband was such a spiteful menace.

And she loves it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna was… _shaken._

Twenty-eight years of age, yet his mind was still that of an immature child. He let the bitterness over Jiro’s death to cloud his judgement, causing him to not see the gift the heavens sent to him when they took Jiro away. He had a perfectly alive brother whose love and devotion to him rooted so deep that even his real brother could not comprehend yet—

“Too late,” Izuna whispered, choking out a laugh. “It’s all too late.”

The cold presence by his side hummed but said nothing.

Izuna kept his gaze on his lap, unable to lift his head up. If he glanced to his right, he would see the worn journal written by Tobirama’s hands. If he looked straight ahead, he would meet the gaze of his reflection—the idea of meeting the gaze of his brother’s ruby eyes in his own reflection made his chest ache with dull throbbing pain. If he glanced to his left, he would meet Jiro’s gaze and he simply couldn’t bear to meet the gaze of his reanimated brother—now knowing how much he has disappointed Jiro when he blatantly denied the privilege of having a living brother.

Izuna was too young when he became the last of his original siblings.

At the young age of five, he has only experienced loss thrice—and he was only old enough to remember the pain from only one death.

Jiro has more experience losing siblings. The fourth child from siblings of nine, he had watched his elder sisters and brothers died before their younger siblings could even be born, and when he became the eldest, he has to experience the death of his younger siblings too.                               

Izuna only understood Jiro’s reasoning to cherish Tobirama like he cherished Izuna after he was awakened from his sharingan-induced coma. For someone who has lost so many, a half-brother was still a brother and a living brother was a privilege in their era of war.

Jiro considered Tobirama as a privilege. Something that—should he was alive—would be the thing that he coveted and cherished the most.

And Izuna ruthlessly threw the privilege away, took it for granted, abuse the love and devotion he received because he clung to the one that he has lost and has allowed himself to fall into their elders’ political games.

“What should I do,” the Clan Head whimpered to his palms, voice hitching to the note of hysteria. “What should I _do_ , when everything is too late?” his fingers curled to dangerous claws, digging deep into the skin of his face. “It’s too late. Everything is too late…,” Izuna’s voice pitched higher, dripping with delirium. “He is _gone_!”

A cold hand gently cupped his cheek, turning Izuna's face to the side to meet Jiro's gaze. Jiro gently patted his cheek, lips quirked to a flat smile as he offered a bloodied happuri to Izuna.

“You live with it, Izuna.”

Izuna stared at the happuri with dazed eyes, remembering when he had thrown the faceplate into Tobirama’s room with little to no care. His hands were shaky when he lowered them to take the offered happuri, but Jiro’s cold grip on his wrist steadied his hands.

“Live with it and never forget.”

Izuna traced the dried blood that smeared all over the metal, feeling the dents of the metal that surely has saved Tobirama’s life—keeping him alive to love Izuna—and Izuna thought of the loving words he heard slipped from the demon’s mouth. He thought of Tobirama’s willingness to give up his own life for Izuna, the raw sincerity when the infamous demon vowed to never let any harm fall upon Izuna as long as he is still alive and—

Izuna cracked.

He laughed.

He laughed and laughed, ignoring the burn in his throat and the throbbing of his scorched hand as he clutched the metal faceplate with a deathly grip, his tears dripped on the dried blood, hoping so hard that he could reverse the time and wash the blood—Tobirama’s pain—away.

The blood didn’t wash away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kagami was in a bittersweet mood today. 

It has been six months since he shouldered the duties of a clan head, and as much as it was a tedious exhausting job—he was _happy_. Since Tobirama's death, this was the first time that he was genuinely happy.

He knew how much his shishou—the man he dearly considered as his own father—loved children, and to have Tobirama Clan to be known as the clan for all orphaned children to make their own patchwork of a family has filled him with pride.

They were a mismatched family consisting of orphaned children—shinobi and civilian alike—from all over the nation. The twelve Uchiha children were the pioneers, but it didn't take long before they slowly increased in number. The appeal of a loving accepting family tempted orphaned children who were outcasted by their own kinsmen to join the clan. Such strong temptation they offered that by the sixth month, they already moved from the Uchiha Demon’s residence in the town square to their own compound right next to the Senju’s compound.

Team Demon jokingly called their clan as the clan of the amazing unwanted.

It was a joke, but it was the truth too. These children possessed a diverse set of skills and abilities, easily able to grow into amazing shinobi with sufficient training.

Yet, they were unwanted.

Unwanted half-bred children outcasted by their own kin. The teens who were being transferred from one unwilling distant relative to another. Children abandoned by their own parents. All of them left the cold circle of their blood family and ran into the warm embrace of the new clan, proudly wearing the name of the Uchiha Demon as their last name, sharing their unique talents to create the identity of the clan.

Kagami fleetingly wondered how his shishou would react to this knowledge—to know that these mismatched children wore his name with fierce pride and joy.

Kagami thought that Tobirama would be very pleased.

“Kagami-sama! Kagami-sama!”

Kagami shifted his head in the direction of the voices, lips curled out to a smile to let the children knew that he was aware of their presence and it didn’t take long before they bounded over and crashed to his knees, small hands tugging on the edge of his flax jacket, voices shouting over each other.

“Me first!”

“No! Me! I’m older!”

“Then you need to let the youngest go first!”

Kagami laughed a genuine amused laughter, bending down to their level.

"Children," he said, clearing his throat. "One by one, starting from my right," he decided, his voice carried the authority of the head of the family, yet the smile softened his tone. He wriggled his right hand, grinning when his wrist was caught by one of the children.

“Me first, then!” the girl giggled, bringing Kagami’s hand up to her braided hair. “I braid it myself! Using the ribbon that Mito-sama gave!”

Kagami let his hand brushed over her braid, lips curling to a wider grin when he felt the effort she has put into the neat braid. He toyed with the silk ribbon, before moving his hand to pat her cheeks, feeling the heat of her flush against his fingertips.

"I'm sure you look stunning, Hikari-chan," he murmured, smiling when she grasped his hand to kiss his knuckles before his hand was transferred to another child.

Kagami’s hand touched cool flat surface. Curious, he flared his chakra to wrap around the object, attempting to determine what is it.

“Is this a picture frame?” he asked, letting his fingers ran along the wooden edges before retreating to the cool surface of the glass.

“Yes!” the boy giggled, taking the frame from Kagami’s hand. “It’s the first day of the academy. I want shishou to be here with us!”

Kagami swallowed a heavy lump in his throat.

The academy was originally Tobirama's idea and after his passing, Hashirama and Mito have taken the lead of the project, prioritising it only next to the village's defence. Halfway through, Izuna has taken over the project while Hashirama was distracted by international relations and Mito was busy with the medical development in Konoha. The Uchiha Clan Head oversaw the project with fierce determination no one expected would ever come from him, considering from whom the idea of the academy was originated from.

Now, a year and a half later, Konoha's Shinobi Academy opened its door to their children.

It was a happy day for all of them, but—

Kagami wished that Tobirama was here to celebrate it too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna managed to slip past Hashirama’s unforgiving clutch just moments before the Hokage was supposed to give his speech to officiate the opening of the academy. 

Menace. Hashirama and Jiro were a horrifying menace when combined together.

Mito was the evil demon that whispered encouragements to those two.

Izuna was more self-aware of the Clan Heads’ opinion on him now, thus Hashirama’s idea to have him to give a speech in Tobirama’s stead was a horrible idea all over. Majority of the Clan Heads were not fond of Izuna but deeply respected and adored Tobirama, thus to have Izuna taking over for his half-brother would only increase their dislike of him.

Hence, why Izuna decided to ran the hell away the moment Hashirama was distracted.

Izuna vaguely felt the intensity of Hashirama's betrayed glare upon his back once the Hokage was pushed up to the podium by his fiancée. The chilling glare had Izuna to hasten his steps, weaving his way around the crowd with the hope that Hashirama cared enough about his public image to not attempt capturing Izuna using mokuton. It would be such an embarassing sight.

Izuna was too focused on evading Hashirama's gaze that he didn't realise where he was going. 

He bumped onto someone, and suddenly he rather has Hashirama’s betrayed glare locked on him.

The flare of chakra that wrapped around him was cold and terrifying.

“Kagami-kun,” Izuna greeted, voice soft and shaky with nervousness.

“Izuna-san,” Kagami greeted with a curt nod.

Kagami terrified him. _Sage, why is this kid so scary?_

Though, before any of them could say anything else, they both sensed powerful chakra that hasn't been sensed in Konoha since the past year approaching the area. All shinobi capable of sensing the chakra instantly looked up, a mixed reaction of surprise and exasperation broke through their expressions when the tiny dot on the sky crashed down onto the academy's roof, sending broken wood everywhere.

“HASHIRAMA!!!”

Hashirama didn’t even bother to look surprised.

“Hello to you too, Madara,” instead, the Hokage deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from each word. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. Ah? My wedding? No worries. We postponed it until your return. By the way, nice glasses—and by nice, I mean, could you please get rid of it before the ugly thing burns my eyes? Thank you,” Hashirama ended his words with a dangerous smile, lifting his hand to point at the broken roof underneath his baby brother’s feet. “And you’re going to fix that.”

Madara looked down at the broken roof, forehead scrunched up to a frown. “But Hashiii—,” the previously missing Senju whined, curling his lips to a pout. “You can fix it with mokuton in seconds!”

“A fellow Aniki told me to stop spoiling my baby brother.”

Izuna held back a snort. Jiro was a bad influence on all big brothers around him. Thank fuck the circle that knew of his existence was small.

“Haaaassshhhiiiii!!!”

“Fix that after this ceremony ends.”

Madara grumbled something under his breath but sulkily nodded as he straightened up, taking off the giant round glasses off his face. By this point, the whole crowd has taken a good look on him, and every single mind in the area was thinking the same thing.

What the fuck has Madara been up to in this whole year and a half he went out of reach?

Madara's once long wild mane has been hacked off to mere inches from his scalp—the short spiky hair gave him a strangely youthful look while the stupid thick-rimmed round glasses gave him a goofy air. There was a hint of dyes in his hair as underneath the sunlight, Madara’s hair carried a hue of reddish brown in it. 

And his eyes were slate grey instead of onyx black.

“Brother-in-law,” Mito chimed, leaping gracefully towards Madara.

“Ane-ue,” Madara greeted with a curt nod, tensing a bit when she reached her hand towards him.

Mito huffed and pushed on. Her touches seemed casual and familiar, but any shinobi worth their salt knew that Mito was actually checking Madara for injuries.

“You look healthy,” Mito finally decided, quirking a tiny smile. “Take off those contacts. Knowing you, you have been wearing them non-stop more than the recommended period.”

"It's only one day extra….," Madara grumbled but didn't resist when Mito's glowing hand reached out to his eyes to take out the lens for him.

“Your eyes are very dry,” the Uzumaki princess frowned, letting her glowing palms rested over Madara’s open eyes for a few more seconds. “Get some eye drop later.”

"Yes, ma'am!"

Izuna cocked an eyebrow. Madara was oddly happy and chirpy. Heck, he seemed hyper, in a sense.

It was weird enough that Izuna briefly noted on the slight horrified shiver from the Yamanaka Clan Head.

Hashirama chuckled, looking up from the podium to lock his gaze with his younger brother. “So?”

Madara grinned, teeth flashing in a feral triumph as he jerked his chin in the direction of the main road, pointing to something right behind the gathering crowd.

“Mission success,” the Senju Clan Heir announced, pride dripping from each syllable.

Izuna heard it before he saw it.

“Impossible,” Kagami murmured, voice shaky as he pushed past Izuna in the direction that Madara has pointed out. “No way,” he whispered, voice only loud enough to allow the confused people to give way to him.

Then, Kagami screamed.

“Shishou!!!

Izuna turned around faster than possible—but the children were faster than him. Like a trigger, Kagami’s scream unleashed the children as they too started losing control, squirming their way from their bewildered guardians and parents as they chased after Kagami, screaming the exact same word in between their tears and laughter.

Izuna only able to get a glimpse of the dearly missed silver hair gleaming underneath the sunlight. He only has enough time to make out the skinny, frail frame that was sandwiched tight between a gigantic black panther and a snow leopard—both summons were flanking the man, supporting his weight with their strong frame.

Izuna only had enough time to see the faintest smile on Tobirama’s pale face.

“I’m home,” Tobirama’s voice rang through the silent area, sounding the exact same as a year ago, like he had never _gone_ and—

—the stampede of children lost their mind.

Izuna was _trampled_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Jiro is the type of elder sibling who would spoil you but also would discipline you to become perfect angels. Tobi is the elder sibling who will spoil you without any boundaries or rules.  
> 2\. New Madara looked like a brunette Obito minus the scar but plus detective Conan's glasses.  
> 3\. Izuna was a pancake by the time the stampede of children get their hands on Tobi.  
> 4\. Madara's summon in this story is T'challa, er, I mean, a black panther.
> 
> Epilogue coming right up.


	6. To reap what we sow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God, my muse is evil. This is not an epilogue you guys. I know we all want to see ObiKaka in this AU. They will appear in the actual epilogue. This extra chapter is brought to you by my evil muse who kept whispering that I have some loose ties to cover before ending this one. Un-betaed. I'm sleepy as fuck. It's 4AM on Monday morning where I have work tomorrow. Read at your own risk.

_“You live with it, Izuna.”_

_“Live with it and never forget.”_

  

* * *

 

The children trampled Izuna flat. 

No. That wasn’t even an exaggeration. In their frantic run to get their hands on their beloved demon, the children really did trample on few unfortunate adults like Izuna flat onto the ground.

It then took a complete minute for Izuna to scramble out of the dirt. His back was sore, the dark fabric of his Uchiha high-collared robe was decorated with tiny footprints and there was also a mouthful of soil smearing the corners of his lips.

If it was a year ago, he would’ve flipped out and yelled at the children, reprimanding them for their unruly behaviour trampling over him—he was the Uchiha’s Clan Head, mind you, it’s not like he was a nobody shinobi—and probably filed an official complaint to their parents too.

All of that, in order to sooth his easily bruised ego.

However, that would only happen if it was a year ago.

Izuna has turned over a new leaf. He was not that egotistical spoiled brat he was a year ago.

If anything, his heart yearned to join the children too. He yearned to touch the frail pale cheeks of his supposedly deceased brother, making sure that yes, Tobirama was here, he was here safe and sound behind the gates of Konoha. He wanted to hold the elder in his arms, to feel the grounding presence of Tobirama’s sturdy body in his hold, even though from the jutting bones of his collarbone and the frail-looking arms underneath the dark kimono shirt, anyone with functioning eyes could see that Tobirama has lost a lot of weight in this past year and a half.

Madara has always been broader than the rest of the founders—he was the shortest, but his breadth won over all of them—all strong shoulders and broad back that he unintentionally flaunted during training or on hot summer days. Simultaneously, Tobirama was taller and only just a tiny bit behind Madara in the breadth department, thus seeing the way the Senju’s shirt clung so loosely on Tobirama’s frame was enough to spark concerns from the crowd, particularly the Clan Heads that have worked together with the Uchiha Demon during the construction of the village.

Tobirama was not in a good shape, and all of them saw it.

Well, everyone saw it, except for the children that were smothering the Uchiha Demon with affection and cuddles.

“Brats!” Madara yelled from his perch on the roof, leaping down near the children pile with visible dark aura leaking out of him. “I did not go on an undercover mission…,” he growled, storming towards the pile of children, “…in enemy territory," he huffed, using both hands to pry one of the kids that were clinging on Tobirama bony arm, “…for a whole year and a half," he snarled when his hand was swatted away and the child he was trying to pry away from Tobirama simply slotted herself in the tight space between two other children. "A whole year and a half! I didn't spend those time infiltrating enemy territories just so _you_ can kill him the day he returned home!” he yelled, attempting to pull one of the children out of the pile, only to hiss in disbelief not two seconds after that.

Madara retracted his hand, eyes widened at the little child that was hanging two feet in the air with only the sheer force of his teeth that were clamping the Senju’s hand.

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY BITING ME, KID??”

It was then followed by a loud undignified squawk from the younger Senju as the child bit harder on his hand.

Tobirama’s voice was a muffled laughter that came from somewhere underneath the pile of children.

Izuna tuned into that laugh, lips quirking into a tiny smile.

He wanted to join the children.

Sage, he really wanted to.

He wanted to be the cause of the hoarse gentle laughter that was so rarely heard from the Uchiha Demon. He wanted the solid proof that Tobirama’s condition would eventually be better, once the man gets proper food, treatment and rest. He yearned for the comfort of having Tobirama in his arms.

But he didn’t indulge that yearning.

The happuri he kept inside his sleeves suddenly felt heavy, reminding of all those dried blood he has failed to clean no matter how hard he washed and polished the metal—

How weird was it? The metal was shiny and clean yet Izuna still saw blood all over it.

Not that he could do anything even if he has the courage to include himself in the pile.

Cold, vicious chakra reached out to him and Izuna backed away, understanding the unspoken threat immediately.

He ignored the shocked frown that grew on Madara’s face, nor did he showed any signs that he saw the confusion that swam in the younger Senju’s dark eyes. He pretended to not hear the exasperated sigh that slipped from Hashirama’s lips and averted his gaze from seeing the calculative curl of Mito’s lips as all three members of the Senju clan shifted their gaze back and forth between him and Kagami.

Madara cocked his eyebrows in Izuna’s direction.

Izuna shook his head and waved the concerned Senju off.

Madara’s frown grew deeper—the biting child hanging off his hand was forgotten.

Madara wasn’t there when Kagami truly lost it. He wasn’t there when the brat proved how good Tobirama has raised him.

The younger Senju wasn’t there when Kagami quite literally held Izuna’s life in his hands.

The children have more rights to Tobirama anyway.

After all, it was by the compassion and kindness of the children that Izuna was still able to breathe today.

 

* * *

 

 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Hashirama bit back another sigh, shifting Tobirama’s unconscious form in his arms as he tried to find the best angle to talk to his baby brother.

His baby brother, who for some godforsaken unknown reason refused to take Hashirama’s other flank and opted to be an insufferable brat while trailing a good foot behind the Hokage.

Maybe it has something to do with the way Mito kept trying to reach across Hashirama’s chest to molest Madara’s dyed spiky hair. Yep, maybe that was the reason his baby brother refused to walk at the same pace as the two of them. Mito is a menace.

Speaking of the menace of a woman, she was not helping what so ever with their current situation.

Mito found the sight endearing—to see the God of Shinobi carrying the Uchiha Demon along the streets of Konoha (bridal-style and in normal civilian speed at that; because they did not want to risk injuring the demon anymore than he already was)—when it was not even a few years ago that they were at each other throats attempting to take the other’s head.

The Uzumaki princess took her pleasure in observing the scene, gracefully gliding by Hashirama’s right flank.

How the hell she was still able to look perfectly poised after the surprise of Tobirama’s return was a complete mystery. Hashirama was reasonably ragged after the hectic (now postponed) opening ceremony—his Hokage robe was skewed and crumpled here and there while he has lost his Kage hat to the stampede, and yet here she was, not a hair out of order of her elaborated hairdo.

Tobirama's return caused a hectic reaction, which was followed by a complete chaos.

It was a chaos when Tobirama’s laughter was cut short with a horrible cough and blood splatters before the man lost his consciousness, giving up the last of his energy to his injuries.

It promptly threw the children into panicked hysterics when they saw their beloved shishou laid unmoving beneath them.

The sobbing children were too stunned and scared that they ended up on their knees and obediently bowed their heads when Madara launched into a full-blown lecture while Hashirama and Mito proceeded to ensure that the kids really did not just kill the Uchiha Demon by smothering him with affectionate love.

When the Hokage and his almost-wife announced that Tobirama would be fine, the children almost trampled over Madara to crowd around the Hokage, attempting to get their tiny little hands on any piece of their beloved demon.

That was the first time ever Konoha witnessed their Hokage raised his voice.

The children showed no fear, even against the God of Shinobi himself.

Kagami wisely stuck to his supposed role as the Clan Head to calm the children of his clan, although there was nothing he could do with the children that were not of his care. Along with the rest of the Clan Head, they herded their children home, with sweet promises that they would be visiting the Uchiha Demon once the man has received proper treatments from whatever injuries he suffered while being held prisoner behind Kumo’s borders.

Hashirama knew it was only the matters of time for Madara to notice the oddness in Kagami’s behaviour—his baby brother might not be the sharpest kunai in the set, but Madara could be extremely perceptive when he decided to stay still and pay attention to his surroundings.

And Kagami was not even being subtle about it.

“Tobi’s brat,” Madara tried again, placing a hand to stop Hashirama’s stride. “Kagami. What the hell happened to him?” he asked, the confused frown was back on his face. “The brat used to be adorably annoying, not dangerously hostile.”

Hashirama exhaled a deep sigh.

“It is a long story,” he said with a dismissive shrug.

Madara stalked around to stand in front of Hashirama, halting the Hokage’s in his path. He then crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows while his lips curled to the beginning of the pout that he has learnt to weaponize against Hashirama. Hashirama pointedly avoiding looking at him, averting his gaze to the sky.

“Onii-chan…”

Oh no. Oh, hell NO.

Hashirama was not going to fall for that.

There was a hopeful tug on his sleeves and Hashirama promptly squeezed his eyes shut, his expression was tortured.

_Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at those damned puppy eyes—_

Even without shinobi’s training of keen perspective, everyone could make out what was in Hashirama’s mind as his opened his eyes again upon the incessant tugging on his sleeves, and his gaze immediately wandered everywhere _except_ for his brother’s face.

Mito’s lips quirked to an amused smirk.

Then, Hashirama yelped when dainty small hands casually wrestled the Uchiha Demon away from him and straight into Mito’s embrace. He frowned, angling a betrayed look to his beloved fiancée while the menace of a woman simply adjusted Tobirama in her hold, shifting the man until she had the demon’s head comfortably rested against her shoulder.

“You go back home and tell him,” she decided with a firm authoritative tone, already straightened up with her head held high. “I’ll see Tobirama-san to the hospital.”

With that, Mito walked ahead, completely ignoring the gawking civilians who have poked their heads out of the shops to stare at the scene. The gawking was expected. It wasn’t every day one would see the previously deceased Uchiha Demon being tucked in the arms of a woman who was a good foot shorter than him—all the while, the man was completely unconscious and dead to the world.

Hashirama stared at the back of his fiancée with a helpless gaze, shoulders slouched in defeat. He really didn't want to be the one telling Madara about Kagami's almost slip into insanity. The brat almost started a civil war and who knew how Madara's dramatic streak would react to it. Konoha was their collaborative effort, and to know that Kagami almost destroyed it was not something that Madara would typically accept with mature calmness.

“Onii-chan?”

Oh sage. Hashirama hated the beloved manipulative people in his life.

“I hate it when you do that,” Hashirama grumbled, but there was a tiny quirk of a fond smile on his lips as he reached an arm to wrestle Madara into his hold, keeping the younger’s head in a loose headlock. “I hate you and your stupid otoutou charms.” 

Madara gave him a devious triumphal grin.

“You fall for my adorable charms anyway, Aniki.”

Hashirama scowled and smacked the back of Madara’s head.

“Brat.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tobirama was back. 

The whole clan knew it—even those who were out of the village when the man returned—but not one soul dared to comment or act on it. The surprise of Tobirama’s return was still there in their mind, proven by the unease beating of their hearts and the heavy tensed atmosphere of the compound.

They were terrified of a potential retribution.

When Kagami snapped, it was the children who reigned the grieving teen calm. Innocent as they were, the children believed that destroying the Uchiha was not something that Tobirama would ever want and used that belief to calm Kagami down.

Now that Tobirama was back, the Uchiha feared that the belief would change.

Konoha assumed that Kagami was the strongest in the new clan—being the only adult of the clan and all—but the Uchiha clan knew that the truth was not the same. Sure, _technically_ Kagami was the strongest, having the ability to take out a whole enemy troop on his own (even without his sharingan), but it was the children who made the new clan so terrifying.

The children have abandoned their own roots and took the demon’s name as their own, and their growing power stirred pure fear in their former clans.

The elders of the Uchiha tried to stop the threat of the children.

Well, they _tried_.

Oh, the elders did try to stop the growth of the new clan, even going so far to act behind Izuna and Hikaku to negotiate with the original families of the growing clan, wanting to stop the power Kagami was accumulating under his care.

The result wasn’t in their favour.

The civilian families didn’t give a damn—in fact, they were happy to be rid of their extra baggage to the care of the new clan. The smaller clans, on the other hand, feared the idea of pissing off Kagami as they yelled at the envoys that Uchiha elders have sent, asking them if they have lost their mind to even consider taking what the Reaper has claimed as his own. The bigger clans, despite agreeing with the Uchiha elders to preserve their clan’s techniques from being shared within the new Tobirama clan, were shamefully outsmarted by the children.

The elders swore at Tobirama’s and Ayame’s names, cursing the deceased half-bred demon for manipulating the devious child to turn her brilliance against them.

Their only excuse to stop the rising power of the new clan has backfired.

When told that the children are not allowed to share their original clan’s secrets with each other, the thirteen-years-old Clan Heir of Tobirama Clan has giggled and beamed at them, all sunshiny and mockingly happy.

_“Then, we’re going to create our own techniques~!”_

Tobirama Ayame has declared that to the group of stunned elders, standing her ground in all of her four-feet-and-a-half-tall defiances.

It backfired. The Uchiha children who were once raised by the deceased demon has taken the declaration in a stride, remembering the sight of their beloved shishou hunched over his table with scrolls of unfinished jutsu scattered around him.

They grew up to that sight.

They first learnt to crawl surrounded by Tobirama’s notes. They learnt to walk around the time Kage Bunshin was created. They practised their penmanship by doodling lines on the discarded papers of the demon’s notes. Their first bed-time story was a research journal the sleepy and exhausted demon mistakenly read to them (and soon regretted when the children got addicted to it). They slept curled up against Tobirama’s warmth as the demon fell asleep on his table, notes and research journals served as his pillow.

They grew up watching _inventions_ being birthed into the world by the mind of their dearest patriarch.

The previously Uchiha children took Ayame's declaration with an excited gleam in their eyes, bouncing straight to the communal library in the Tobirama compound to start researching. They embraced his spirit, seeking and devouring the knowledge at the mad pace that was a reminisce of their deceased patriarch.

If there was any doubt that the Uchiha Demon truly raised these kids with his own hands, the doubt was vanquished by the children’s abnormal thirst for knowledge.

These were Tobirama’s kids, and no one could deny it.

The rest of the children followed their path at a much slower rate, but they embraced the new family culture with an open heart.

Not even one soul who has known the brilliance of the deceased Uchiha Demon was remotely surprised when the new clan started to gain popularity as a clan of inventors instead of a mere clan of unwanted children.

The elders’ attempt to stop the rising power of Tobirama clan backfired spectacularly.

Even with only one legitimate adult in the clan, the new clan was gaining power at a horrifying rate. The young brilliant minds of the abandoned children have sworn over the empty grave of their patriarch to embrace his spirit—and they did, spending more time in the library and research labs more often than normal children, only having the supervision of the demon’s former students to keep them out of trouble.

The new clan gained more and more power as the mini-inventors worked under the guidance of Team Demon to develop their own clan techniques. They aided Kagami to resume Tobirama’s incomplete research. They collaborate to create traps and weaponry only the imagination of young children could think of. They toyed with recipes, going through trials and errors to improve existing poisons and serums. They studied Tobirama's jutsu, training hard to master each of them even with the continuous failures, and spent the time they were supposed to lick their wounds to discuss improvements for the jutsu instead.

The power of a curious mind was terrifying. Add that to children's imagination, and the Uchiha knew that they were in trouble if they allow these kids to grow while nursing vengeful spite against them.

It was not helping the Uchiha to calm down when some of the adults who were fond of Tobirama has taken Hashirama’s speech of "unity beyond the boundaries of the clans" to their heart and occasionally dropped by the Tobirama compound to help the children developing their clan's specialities.

The Akimichi matriarch dropped by for her weekly visit with an abundance of food she has taken the liberty to shove down the Tobirama Clan Head's throat and would only leave when her cheeks were warm with kisses from the children as they promised to improve the recipe of the Akimichi food pill that she has graciously shared.

The Nara matriarch’s occasional escapades from her duties would typically end up with her people discovering their Clan Head snoring in the circle of scheming children—the woman would wake up with a grumbling smile when they asked her for another shogi match, wanting to test out the strategies they have planned while she was asleep.

The Yamanaka patriarch introduced the children to the beauty and horror of flowers, teaching them about the flowers his clan has grown in their forbidden gardens—the flowers that could kill, torture and heal, depending on how they were used—and patiently answering any of the curious questions the children had for him.

The result came in surprisingly fast for a bunch of children being supervised by teens.

Hashirama almost cried in joy when the children make a breakthrough for nutritional ration bars that could sustain even the most chakra-depraved Akimichi but did not taste like soaked cardboard with three-days-old gravy that was rolled around in the ash of your dead best friend.

Touka had a satisfying month having her revenge for her (begrudgingly) favourite Uchiha during her patrols as she tested out the compilation of strategies and traps that the children have graciously shared with her, taking pleasure on the horror of the Kumo scouts with pure gleeful thrill.

Mito almost lost her perfect poise and was so close to trip on her own feet when the Yamanaka Clan Head casually dropped a bunch of serum on her table—the man was smirking and claiming something about a variance of truth and torture serums that the children have contributed to the T&I department.

The Uchiha has to wonder if this was karma punishing them for all the abuse they put their former Clan Head through because the children were growing as strong inventors and they were filled with so much spite against the Uchiha clan that it was straight up horrifying.

Then, there was Kagami.

Kagami, who not a few months ago, held Izuna’s throat in a deadly grip, chakra shifting to the start of a raging fire hungry for the soul of the Uchiha. He was just one boy—a blind _teenage_ boy—and yet the brat rendered the whole clan helpless as all of them knelt by his path, choking out fumes that immobilised them to Kagami’s mercy.

It was by a sheer luck that the Uchiha was not obliterated by one of their own.

Well, sheer luck and the collaboration perceptiveness of Tobirama Ayame and Hatake Sakuno.

The Uchiha clan was shamefully spared from Kagami’s insanity-driven wrath by two little girls.         

Karma is a bitch.

(And the Uchiha was convinced that Karma is Tobirama’s bitch.)

 

* * *

 

 

Ever since he became the Clan Heir, Hikaku always wondered if his life would be easier if he was a tiny bit nicer to Tobirama before these whole things started. 

Kagami. Ayame. The children. Tobirama Clan in general.

Those felt like punishments to their abusive nature to the half-blooded Uchiha.

Then, Izuna’s sudden change.

Hikaku has no idea what the fuck has happened that caused Izuna to do a complete hundred-eighty-degree change in a measly 24 hours, but it was both a relief and depressing. He was relieved that Izuna was calmer and mature ever since _the_ change happened—the man was more contemplative and patient, unlike his hot-headed impulsiveness prior to his change—but it was depressing too when Izuna picked up a new habit into his daily routine.

Inhaling a deep breath (and resisting the urge to wince at the heavy atmosphere of the compound), Hikaku knocked on the door of Izuna’s room.

It was a complete minute of silence before Izuna’s soft voice called out;

“Come in.”

Hikaku slid the door open and walked in. He grimaced, grateful for his well-honed shinobi’s skills that he was able to stop himself from visibly wincing at the sight. He could never get used to this new habit Izuna has picked up, no matter how hard he tried to comprehend the reasoning behind it.

“Hikaku,” Izuna greeted in a soft hum, shifting his gaze back to the happuri in his hands. “What brings you to my chamber?”

Hikaku swallowed, eyes fixed on the way Izuna carefully dipped the cloth in his hand into the warm bowl of water, the urge to wince spiked again when the Clan Head obsessively scrub the shiny metal as if he was attempting to clean an unseen stubborn stain.

Izuna has been doing this every day ever since his change, and to be honest, this obsessive habit worried Hikaku.

“Are you okay?”

Izuna stopped scrubbing. Ruby eyes lowered onto the happuri and Hikaku watched the way Izuna’s thumb traced over the edges with hitched breath. The younger Uchiha waited patiently until Izuna was snapped out of his trance, not wanting to disturb his cousin's inner turmoil. It was a full three minutes later when the older man sighed and proceeded to dry the happuri with a soft towel.

“Do you have any news about Tobirama’s condition?” instead of answering the question, Izuna asked, his voice was soft and hopeful.

Izuna wasn’t even looking at Hikaku as he asked that. Instead, his gaze seemed oddly dazed and far-fetched as he reached for the polishing oil he has placed next to the bowl. Hikaku dared himself to come closer, folding his knees next to Izuna and watched with mournful worries when Izuna methodically polished the happuri. The elder’s movements were mechanical, almost emotionless yet the obsession to scrub the metal clean was still there.

Hikaku didn’t know what Izuna saw when he looked at the happuri, but he knew that this behaviour was not healthy.

“Mito-sama said that he would be fine after a few days of good rest and sufficient food,” Hikaku reported, hoping that Izuna’s ruby eyes will reclaim its lively shine with that piece of news. “He has to be put under sedatives and close monitoring for a few days, but he should be able to recover smoothly after that. The Akimichi clan offered to take responsibilities of helping him to regain his weight back.”

Izuna made a humming noise in his throat, hands still polishing the metal.

“Any idea of what happened to him for this past year?”

“Apart from being a prisoner in Kumo?” Hikaku blurted out before he could even think, one hand promptly came up to slap over his mouth once he realised what he just said.

Izuna’s hands stopped, his eyes lowered when he gingerly nodded. “Did Madara let anything slip?”

“Standard procedure, I think,” Hikaku fumbled with his answers, not wanting to elaborate.

They were shinobi. They all knew what the standard procedure was when they managed to capture the leader of an enemy shinobi. Moreover, if the prisoner was a stubborn defiant man like Tobirama. ‘Standard procedure’ was the official sugar-coated name for torture for information.

Izuna’s grip on the happuri tightened.

“I overheard Hiruko-sama and Kōjin-sama told the Hokage that Kumo wished for the knowledge of Tobirama-sama’s fuuinjutsu,” Hikaku reported, remembering the gentle soft voice of the white leopard and the deep husky voice of the black panther. “That’s why they kept him alive for such a long time.”

It was jarring, to hear the leopard spoke. It was also a bit weird to hear the deep affectionate tone of the gentle voice whenever the leopard referred to Tobirama as her precious cub.

“Fuuinjutsu?” Izuna pressed, grip loosening as he returned to his obsessive polishing. “Why would they want that knowledge?”

“They wanted the knowledge to imprison a bijuu, if I’m not mistaken,” Hikaku mumbled, hesitant a bit. “It was the Niibi, I think,” he added, mind reeling back to the conversation between the Hokage and the two summons that he has overheard. “But, Hiruko-sama said to not worry. Tobirama-sama has taken care of it before they escaped Kumo."

Izuna stopped his obsessive polishing.

Hikaku didn’t need the ability to mind-read to know what his older cousin was thinking of.

How the hell Tobirama stopped Kumo from having Niibi with the condition he was in?? The man couldn’t even _walk_ on his own—having to rely on the summons to keep him upright—let alone to go one-on-one against a tailed beast.

Though, neither of them were able to comment on it when their privacy was intruded—Uchiha Ayaka almost broke Izuna's door when she frantically busted into their conversation, panic and fear smeared all over her face.

“Izuna-sama! Izuna-sama!” she yelled, almost tripping on her own feet as she leant on the frame of the door to support her shaking body. “Kagami! Kagami is heading for your house, Izuna-sama! Senju Madara is right on his heels, and he is armed!”

True to her words, it wasn’t long before Kagami’s hostile cold chakra entered their sensory range.

Hikaku paled.

Izuna exhaled a deep resigned breath, carefully putting the happuri away.

Their retribution has come.

 

* * *

 

 

“I fucked up.” 

Mito rolled her eyes, keeping her glowing palms over Tobirama’s forehead and completely ignoring the trembling mass (who she had the amusing misfortune to call husband in a few weeks) that was clinging to her robes.

“I shouldn’t tell him _everything_.”

Mito huffed, carefully pushing Tobirama’s hospital shirt up to the man’s pronounced ribcages, exposing the pale skinny stomach. _The summons are right_ , she thought, as she hovered her fingers just millimetres above the skin, eyes widened in awe when the thrumming seals she had detected responded to her chakra and showed her the intricate seal her fellow fuuinjutsu master has whipped out in the middle of the chaos of his escape from Kumo.

Something else—a powerful inhuman chakra—rippled from the seals, but Mito felt no threat from it. The chakra thrummed in a way that only felt like how a contented pleased cat would feel like. It was so bizarrely adorable that Mito immediately huffed a small laugh.

She should tell the medic to take Tobirama off the sedatives. The Uchiha Demon had no need of the sedatives. He would definitely heal in no time if the rippling purring chakra under her palms were any indicator.

“Madara and Kagami are going to start a civil war.”

Mito rolled her eyes again. She ought to find the medics, yes.

But _after_ she dealt with her traumatised  _and_ dramatic fiancé.

 

* * *

 

 

Kagami really hated being young. 

“I’m sorry for almost destroying the clan,” he grumbled, no longer resisting the persisting hand that was pushing his head down to a polite bow. “ _Izuna-sama_ ,” he added when Madara’s fingers tightened in his hair.

“Brat,” the younger Senju huffed. “Your glowing sincerity is dripping.”

Kagami snorted. Sarcasm was not a Senju trait. Madara was not good at it.

“Madara,” to his surprise, Izuna’s voice was that of an exasperated sigh laced with the faintest hint of relief. “You don’t have to force him to do anything that he did not want to.”

If Kagami has eyes, his eyes would have widened at that.

“He….,” Madara growled, tightening his grip in Kagami’s hair and pushed the boy’s head down to an acute 90-degree bow like all annoyed dramatic fathers Kagami saw some of the peers his age have, “…..almost started an Uchiha civil war.”

“We reaped what we sow,” Izuna’s voice was a soft chuckle, and for the first time, Kagami sensed past his hatred to his clan and tried to pay more attention to the man. “We had it coming,” Izuna hummed, voice soft.

Izuna’s chakra was softer than he last remembered it. Not as raging violence brimming with hatred and anger, but a softer, muted version of his once hot-tempered will. It was the chakra of a resigned man, weighed down with so many things Kagami never took time to notice and it was both bizarre and uncomfortable to feel. Kagami reached out his chakra towards Izuna, wanting to _see_ more of the man, and after a brief hesitance, Izuna allowed Kagami’s chakra to touch his own, connecting their energy closer than they have ever attempted.

Kagami gasped, head jerking as he straightened up, startling the grumbling Madara.

“Brat…,” Madara growled threateningly.

Kagami ignored him and reached a hand forward, capturing Izuna’s forearm in his grip.

“Meet him,” those two words sounded more like a command, but Kagami cared not to control his tone around a fellow Clan Head. “Go and meet him.”

Regret and guilt.

Izuna suffered those emotions so deeply it has changed his spiritual energy and caused such a jarring change in his own chakra.

Kagami felt the hesitance emitting from the older man—a man he would’ve called _uncle_ if they weren’t in this family feud—and he tightened his grip on Izuna’s forearm, not allowing the guilt-stricken Uchiha to push him away.

True, a few months ago Kagami was itching to kill this man—and he was so close to succeeding that need too—but Ayame and Sakuno have pulled him out of his hatred, prying his trembling fingers from Izuna’s throat and gently tugged his rageful body into their embrace.

The children didn’t leave him alone that night—and now when he thought about it, they were oddly prepared to welcome him into their soothing embrace. Sakuno and Ayame have held his trembling hands in their own, stopping him from wielding his anger to the bloody path he intended to take, as they guided him away from the Uchiha compound the moment Hashirama and Mito arrived to settle the matters with the Uchiha. He didn’t remember much of what happened after that. One second he had his hands around Izuna’s throat and was about to burn the man right on the spot, and the next second he was surrounded by children, safe in the common room in the main house of his own compound.

The children piled on him, keeping their tiny hands on his limbs and quite literally pinned him in a nest of blankets and pillows with their bodies as if it was enough to stop him from succumbing to his hatred.

Surprisingly, it did.

The children _saved_ him.

And now that shishou was back, Kagami was more than grateful for it.

But, Izuna…There was no one to save Izuna from this darkness. If Kagami didn’t reach out now, he feared that Tobirama would mourn and forever be broken when his last brother fell to the hatred.

Self-hate was even more dangerous than hatred directed to another person.

“Let’s visit him,” Kagami pressed, toning down the natural hostility of his own chakra. He swallowed, acting purely on impulse now as he remembered what Ayame had said when she pulled him out of his own darkness.

_“Please stop, Otou-sama.”_

And as weird as it was to have a girl only five years younger than him to call him that, Kagami has calmed down instantly, being grounded to the reality that he has children to care for and this hatred would hurt them all. Teenager as he was, these children were his. He was the patriarch of Tobirama Clan, and technically their guardian and father-figure, despite being only a few years older than them.

He swallowed, squirming away from Madara’s slackened grip to reach both of his hands towards Izuna, gently holding the man’s shoulders in his grip.

Ayame has shown him kindness and love when he was almost lost in the darkness.

It’s time to pass the kindness forward. 

“Izuna… _ojii-san_ ,” Kagami started, a bit hesitant and awkward but by the hitched breath that slipped past Izuna’s throat told him that his words have an effect. “Let’s visit him,” he insisted. “Let’s visit shishou…,” he gulped, knowing that this was the first time he would say this out loud. “Let’s visit _him_. My _father_ , your _Aniki_.”

Kagami felt it first before he heard it.

Izuna’s chakra shifted, and there were droplets of wetness dripped on his own wrists before Izuna collapsed against the teenage boy, wetting Kagami’s shirt with tears.

And like a dam being broken, Izuna _broke._

* * *

 

 

 **_“Tobi~”_ **

Tobirama groaned, honestly thought that it was still too early for Tabi to wake him up with that lecherous purr, but there was nothing he could do to stop the fiery cat from disturbing his well-deserved sleep when she was literally resting in his stomach.

 _“Too early, Tabi,”_ he grunted back, rolling onto his side on the rippling water of the bijuu plane, refusing to meet her amused gaze. _“I need sleep. It has been a long time since I had a proper one.”_

**“Your boyfriend, son and brother come to visit _._ ”**

_“Madara knows that I need rest…,”_ Tobirama huffed, swatting the playful gigantic paw that was poking on his back, “… _unlike you.”_

She unsheathed her claw and tugged the back of his collar with all the playfulness of a housecat despite her gigantic size. The amused purr rumbled again as the tugging stopped and Tobirama would’ve thought that the Niibi has given up on teasing him and would allow him to compensate a year-worth of sleep when his groggy, sedated mind backtracked and registered what the cat has told him.

Tobirama’s eyes snapped open, only to cause him a disoriented wave of nausea when instead of darkness that greeted him whenever he opened his eyes, his gaze met Madara’s shocked eyes—and by god, the Senju wasn’t joking when he said that his brunette new haircut made him look far younger than he should—before he had to close his eyes for a moment, attempting to adjust to his new sight. When Tobirama opened his eyes again, he had to blink a few times, wondering what had happened during his temporary unconsciousness that he now found looking at his peripherals to be oddly less clear than looking head on.

It has been twenty-eight years of attempting to heal his broken sight—so long of a time that he ended up used to looking at his peripherals—and now he opened his eyes and his sight was crystal clear even when he looked at Madara’s wide eyes head on.

“What…,” he muttered, confused as he brought his hands up to his eyes.

“Eternal Mangekyou,” Madara hummed, handing him a hand mirror. “Or so I was told.”

Tobirama looked at his reflection in the mirror, holding back a wince at how gaunt his face looked like, and he seriously questioned Madara’s taste now that he was reminded of the younger man’s words on how he still find Tobirama attractive after they were safe from Kumo’s tracker team, because honest to Rikudou-Sennin, Tobirama thought that he looked like the personification of a corpse—heck, even _Jiro_ looked healthier than he was. However, before he could ponder even more on the matter, he blinked and finally noticed the dark eyes of his reflection.

It was such a bizarre colour to see on his own face.

Bizarre, yet not unwelcome.

It reminded him of his mother’s eyes. It reminded him of Tajima’s eyes. His little brothers too since both Kakashi and Izuna have dark eyes.

His clans—the Uchiha and Hatake.

They all have pure black eyes like the most precious obsidian.

Somehow, Tobirama suddenly felt _belonged_ into the image of his family that he still had in his mind.

“They decided to share you know?” Madara has opted to sit by his side, the bed dipped under his weight as he leant close to run those strong fingers through Tobirama’s silver hair, untangling knots here and there. “I don’t know what kind of Uchiha thing it was, but they said that by sharing, it will connect the three of you.”

Tobirama blinked, still confused and dazed from _everything_ , and after sending a reprimanding telepathic feeling to the purring amused cat in his body, he looked up to meet Madara’s eyes, feeling self-conscious under that warm gaze.

Madara braved the danger of infiltrating enemy line to seek any _rumours_ of the whereabouts of his _corpse_ —just rumours, mind you, since the Senju didn’t even know if there was even a corpse for him to bring back—and it would be a lie if Tobirama didn’t admit that it made him felt warm inside, to know that someone considered him precious enough to take such a bold risk.

It felt nice to be important and loved like that.

His gaze flickered to the pendant that was resting at the crook of Madara’s collarbone—the pattern of his own Mangekyou embossed at the back of the pendant while the front bore the Uchiha crest—knowing that sooner or later he has to explain to the younger man what it meant when Tobirama offered the necklace to him.

Uchiha Tajima has drilled the tradition into his head the day he caught a very embarrassed teenage Tobirama washing his sheets on his own, and he didn’t need the memories of his sharingan to remember it.

**_“Oh, look at that. Butterflies everywhere in my prison. How nice of you Tobi. I love these fluttering sparkly creatures.”_ **

_“Tabi_ ,” Tobirama internally sighed, fondly exasperated at the playful sarcastic nature of his new roommate. _“You’re not funny.”_

The Matatabi snorted. **_“Excuse you. I’m hilarious_.”**

 _“Matatabi,_ ”

 ** _“Tobirama,”_** the cat retorted in a playful purr. “ ** _I suggest you to stop making cow eyes to your boy before your son choked on his own embarrassment.”_**

Oh. That’s right. Madara was not alone. Son. Kagami. Right, Kagami came with Madara—

Tobirama froze the moment he shifted his head to look at the other side of his bed.

Two pairs of wide ruby and onyx eyes stared at him with boggled surprise, a matching flush was on both Izuna's and Kagami's cheeks, obviously having witnessed his more-than-friendly interaction with Madara. However, before any of them could blurt out awkward comment, Madara has risen from his seat and reached out a hand to tug Izuna closer.

Tobirama braced himself for the hurl of hurtful words.

He knew that Izuna was not happy to know that he has survived. Izuna always told him how well-off he would be if Tobirama would just drop dead and disappear from his life. It has been years since Izuna openly hurled those words at him, yet Tobirama still remembered the sharp tone that Izuna has used and it immediately sparked a pain in his chest. He instinctively curled on himself, having no mental strength to put up a strong front like he usually did.

The imprisonment took a toll on his mental strength, and he thought with Madara here, he was safe to be weak.

His heart almost stopped when he was pulled into a hesitant embrace, his nose was buried into the warmth of Izuna’s chest and instead of hurtful words, it was pleas for forgiveness that were chanted against his hair. 

Tobirama was stunned, gaping in hopeful shock.

It took an assuring squeeze of Madara’s hand over his own to snap him out of it.

He then wriggled out from the embrace so that he could meet his brother’s mismatched gaze—seeing the tears that glazed the ruby and onyx eyes—and it was so confusing yet giving him hope all the same as he squeaked out with a tiny voice that would make Jiro yelled at him for being such a meek brat;

“Izuna?”

“Aniki,” Izuna breathed out, holding Tobirama’s close and completely burying his face into the mop of silver hair. “ _Aniki_ ,” Izuna whimpered, planting a kiss on the elder’s forehead. “ _Aniki_.”

One word.

It just took one word to take his pain away.

It just took that one word to put joy on his face.

Tobirama buried his face to Izuna’s embrace and _laughed_.

 

* * *

 

**OMAKE!**

“I’m not imagining it, right?” Hikaku heard Ayaka whispered to Masami as he walked past the compound’s bar.

“If you’re talking about Tobirama-sama’s return, you’re way too late.”

“Not that!”

“Then?”

“Madara-sama!” 

“Oh.”

“He had _his_ necklace!”

Masami shrugged and downed her sake.

“Well, since he is the second-born, it won’t be too troublesome for him to marry into another clan…,” she hiccupped, giggling a bit. “He is already acting like the fussy father for my nephew anyway.”

“He tamed that monster…,” Ayaka hissed. “Did you know what that would mean?”

“That _monster_ is my nephew. Kagami may have left the clan, but he is still my sister’s son,” Masami snapped, pointing a finger at Ayaka’s face. “Watch your mouth.”

Ayaka threw her arms in the air.

“Haven’t you realised that their union would create disastrous children???”

A beat of silence. Then, a hiccup.

“Aya, both of them are males. Procreation is impossible.”

Ayaka didn’t look convinced by one bit.

And to be honest, neither did the eavesdropping Hikaku.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's not clear with Madara's comment of them sharing...IzuKagami decided to share their sharingan. So, Izuna has one of Tobirama's and Kagami's eyes. Kagami has Izuna's and Tobirama's. Tobi has Kagami's and Izuna's. I don't know how sharingan worked in canon apart from being the dojutsu-ex-machina. It feels like sharingan can do everything, so I decided to make it like this.
> 
> I'll update the epilogue some time this week, or Monday next week.


	7. To love unconditionally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Here's a surprise torture Izuna chapter. And MadaTobi. Because I need to fulfil the tag.

Hashirama was six when he first met the terror of his nightmare.

He was eight when his clansmen crushed said terror to the embrace of death.

He was twenty-nine when he met his old nightmare again.

He was thirty-two when he realised that he still feared Uchiha Jiro.

 

* * *

 

“Pardon me?”

Hashirama spluttered, confused and a little bit freaked out as he blinked his tired eyes to the fourteen-years-old reanimation that was lounging on his table. The living corpse still emitted the aura that used to push Hashirama to nightmares—the vicious aura that promised deaths to the people Hashirama has held dear. Jiro used to star Hashirama’s nightmares—especially after the extremely close call between his blade and Touka’s heart—and now, even after their comradeship over their same roles as big brothers, Hashirama still twitched to move into defence and make sure that his clansmen were safe from the Uchiha.

Jiro shifted.

Hashirama’s gaze darted to the unconscious ANBU that he stationed in his office, and his chakra immediately spiked up in defence.

“Calm down, idiot,” the reanimated corpse grumbled, not even moving from his perch on the table. “They’re alive. Only knocked out.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hashirama questioned, hiding the concerned squeak in his voice.

 _I thought we were friends_?

“Desperate time calls for desperate measure,” the dead Uchiha shrugged, appearing in front of Hashirama in a quick burst of sunshin, offering a sealed scroll to the Hokage. “I need a favour. Take over my Edo Tensei contract,” he said, close to a command before the corpse hastily added, “ _Please_. Only you can do it.”

Hashirama’s gaze fell on the scroll, and his suspicion was quickly replaced with confusion.

“Tobi refused to release you?” he asked, a deeper frown graced his forehead as he took the offered scroll.

Jiro snorted. “Contrary. He is _eager_ to release me.”

Hashirama blinked. “Then, why?” he tilted his head, confused. “I thought you want to go back to where you belong? You have been here for far too long.”

Jiro’s face made an expression that was both sad and longing that Hashirama felt something inside his chest broke.

“I will only be able to rest in peace when my troublesome baby brothers started to act like real brothers,” the Uchiha eventually grumbled, leering envious gaze at the Hokage. “Real brothers, like you and Madara.”

"Aren't they acting like brothers now?" Hashirama frowned before a shudder ripped down his form. "Izuna spoiled Tobi every moment possible. They're closer than they've ever been."

“Are they now?” Jiro hummed, tone dry.

Hashirama stared at him with a blank gaze, unable to comprehend anything at all.

The reanimated Uchiha sighed, running a hand through the dark mane of his bangs, hiding his eyes behind the stiff locks. Then, without warning, Jiro suddenly lunged, one hand grasping Hashirama’s hair while the other hand rested on the man’s shoulder, knees nestled at Hashirama’s hips to support his weight as vicious red spun in his black sclera—three tomoe shifting to pronged Mangekyou.

Hashirama flinched.

Jiro grinned.

“How long has it been, _Senju_?” the reanimated corpse purred. “Since our first battle? When you first learnt to fear me?”

Hashirama’s mind unwillingly reeled back to his first battle, when he first witnessed the older shinobi viciously slaughtered his clansmen like the mad demon the Senju claimed all Uchiha was. It was the first time he felt horrified mid-battle—a numbing horror bestowed upon him by the older boy wearing Uchiha crest.

The God of Shinobi flinched, swallowing thickly, the very tips of his fingers trembled in response to his past fear.

“You were a child back when we first met,” Jiro hummed, finally releasing his grip on Hashirama’s hair to stand in front of the Hokage. “Not even that much taller than my ribs,” he grinned, reaching his hand up to compare their heights and giggled when the top of his head barely reached Hashirama’s collarbone. “See? You’re a man now. So tall and strong. God of Shinobi,” he listed down, looking up at Hashirama with the vicious Mangekyou of the Hokage’s worst nightmare. “We’re even sort of friends now,” Jiro beamed.

Then, his expression suddenly shifted to a cruel smirk. “We’re _friends_ …yet, your fear of me is still there.”

Hashirama swallowed. God of Shinobi he was hailed as, yet there were few nightmares and traumas of the past that still haunted his sleep. He’s a human too, and no human is invincible to the torment of mind.

“Trauma is a pesky pest to your mind, isn’t it?”

Hashirama blinked, slowly fixing his gaze into those Mangekyou as realisation dawned onto him. They were both elder brothers. To a surprising extent, their odd friendship that was cemented by the foundation of their deep love to their respective baby brothers gifted them with friendship perks. 

Perks, such as the ability that allowed them to only take one look into the other’s eyes for them to know what was going on in their mind.

Even without in-depth explanation, Hashirama understood the reason Jiro chose to leave his reanimated life of secrecy and intruded the Hokage's tower, knocking out ANBU like they were just fresh genins instead of an elite team tasked to guard Hashirama.

Hashirama would do such unexpected things for Madara too, should the situation call for it.

The Niibi healed Tobirama’s physical injuries in a literal week, and after a thorough inspection at the request of few concerned parties (aka, majority of Hashirama’s council), Tobirama was finally able to declare that he was indeed fine, no need to worry over him anymore, please stop hovering because it’s started to get suffocating—he is a thirty-one years old man and a seasoned shinobi, thank you very much.

Now that Jiro brought it up, Hashirama definitely saw the subtle signs that his dear friend was definitely _NOT_ fine.

How would he be? A year and half of being held prisoner behind the enemy lines, completely blind and if Madara’s written mission report was not dramatically exaggerated, every inch of the Uchiha’s body was covered with chakra suppression seals when Madara found him, thus giving them the fact that throughout his whole imprisonment, Tobirama was literally alone in complete darkness and pain.

Hashirama was genuinely surprised that the Uchiha did not slip into insanity.

Plus, he always had this hunch that Tobirama was not entirely stable even before his capture. It was weird, back then when he listened to Team Demon’s individual reports regarding the mission that killed their sensei. Something kept bugging him at the back of his mind ever since then.

Something didn’t match up.

Sure, it was entirely believable that chakra-exhaustion would result in the Uchiha Demon's unexpected fall. Human. Despite his famed nickname, Tobirama is a human and such a thing happened all the time, even to the strongest human hailed as either God or Demon.

But this was the only person who could match up against _the_ God of Shinobi. A horrifying genius with a set of backup plans for his backup plans. Jutsu and Sharingan were not Tobirama's only weapon in his arsenal. That sharp brilliant mind, and the knowledge of seals that required minimum to none chakra to be used were the Uchiha Demon's specialities too.

Even with a bunch of S-ranked shinobi hounding his exhausted ass, Tobirama should be able to survive until reinforcement arrived. They were so close to Konoha after all.

He should be able to survive.

Hashirama always had this nagging feeling that Tobirama purposely _didn’t_.

The thought that his dear friend might have attempted a suicide back then didn’t sit too well with the Hokage. And now, this silent suffering? Hashirama would have none of it. Thus, Hashirama unsealed the scroll, skimming through the slanted script of Tobirama’s handwriting before he finally found what he needed. Following the instruction to take over Jiro’s contract from Tobirama, the Hokage formed the hand signs, keeping his eyes locked with the abnormal dead eyes of his worst nightmare.

“On the scale of 1 to drowning me in a river, how pissed off Tobirama would be once he realised I took over your contract?” he asked, genuinely curious and partially concerned.

Jiro crossed his arms, huffing with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“Not mad enough that your baby brother wouldn’t be able to distract him from attempting to drown you.”

Hashirama blinked, mouth slacking open in a baffled gape.

There was a beat of silence before the Hokage gathered himself back and blurted out a hoarse;

_“What?”_

Jiro gave the Hokage a flat deadpan look.

“You do realise that Tobi has claimed Madara in an official courtship according to Uchiha’s custom, right?”

Hashirama dramatically wailed in denial.

 

* * *

 

Here’s the thing.

The Senju brothers are trolls.

Hashirama played the role of a bumbling over-optimistic fool, a stupid oaf that make everyone wondered how the hell exactly he was hailed as the God of Shinobi when he flailed and tripped over his own foot for every two seconds or so.

Madara wore the mask of a dramatic hot-tempered idiot, an easily triggered fool that makes everyone forgot the fact that apart from the Uchiha Demon, he was the only person in the whole world who has the hope to stand his own against his elder brother.

The Senju brothers were the trolls of the Senju clan, fooling everyone with their eccentric adorably foolish behaviours, making sure that everyone underestimated their real power by looking at their stupidity instead of their lethality.

Thus, not many remembered that Madara has better observation than anyone else in the clan, being the one who guarded Hashirama’s back while his brother faced the foes in front of them. He sought for the most minute details, small little things like a twitch in an enemy expression or the slight shift in their weight that indicated their next attack, and Madara would act accordingly to ensure that his brother could keep his gaze forward without worrying of his back.

With such keen observation skills, Madara _noticed._

Tabi would purr and tease him for keeping more than one eye on Tobirama but the idiot has zero sense when it came to taking care of himself okay? Madara felt obliged to watch over that masochistic workaholic fool. He loved that adorable fool way too much to not do so.

Madara _noticed_ Tobirama’s odd behaviour.

The flinches when any Uchiha opened their mouth to talk to him. The automatic tension in his shoulders whenever someone moved unexpectedly. The carefully veiled doubts in his dark eyes whenever Izuna fussed over him. The way he always stared at his food with a tiny frown, sniffing at them when he thought no one was looking and then the look of utter confusion on his face when he gingerly ate his food and nothing extraordinary seemed to happen after he swallowed them.

It was easy to conclude that Tobirama was definitely not fine.

Madara _noticed._

And he acted accordingly.

 

* * *

 

The first time Madara noticed was when he accompanied Tobirama to retrieve his belongings from the Uchiha compound. 

It has been decided that Tobirama would not reassume his former position as the Uchiha Clan Head, no matter how much Izuna has insisted on the elder Uchiha to reassume the leadership again. Tobirama has firmly refused, thus Izuna obediently remained as the Clan Head. Though, it has also been decided that Tobirama would keep the clan name—a memoir of his beloved father and elder brother; because Tajima and Jiro were his only direct family members from the Uchiha side who have always unconditionally loved him.

As for his living arrangement, the children left him with zero choices when they literally dragged him by the edge of his shirt, with their tiny hands, from the hospital straight to his clan’s compound.

Tobirama’s reaction to the fact that he had a whole clan formed in his name was unexpected.

The children expected a silent proud smile and gentle words typical of the reserved Uchiha Demon.

They forgot to take account his current mental state that was rather vulnerable after the things that he has gone through this past year and a half.

The children directed their panicked wide eyes towards Madara, adorably lost and scared when their shishou frowned at the compound’s gates. Tobirama’s dark widened eyes stared at the carved crest of the clan—the fierce white outlines of a leopard on black wood, studded with gleaming rubies as its eyes—for a full five minutes before his lips quivered and tears fell freely from his eyes.

The children panicked.

Tobirama was understandably overwhelmed at the honour the children gave him.

Madara almost died restraining his laughter.

(God, he loved teasing these rambunctious brats. Their panicked expression was so cute.)

Madara spent the whole day walking side-by-side the overwhelmed man, venturing the new compound together and greedily drinking in the unveiled awe in Tobirama’s eyes. Tobirama looked like a child getting a birthday present for the first time, his gaze wandered curiously around the compound—thrill and excitement gleaming in his eyes. The libraries, research labs and experimentation grounds (Hashirama was really intending to spoil the children when he built this compound for them and definitely _did not_ overdo the construction for the sake of his spite against Izuna) were the places where Tobirama’s gaze lingered the longest—his pure joy invoked a tiny smile on his companion’s face. There were housing areas, but it was mostly empty for now as the children all lived together with Kagami in the main house.

There was no question where Tobirama would choose to live in when his arrival at the main house was greeted with hugs and cuddles—filled with so much love he used to be denied—and a feast of all his favourite dishes. Madara thought of it as a good healing for the man, especially after seeing the tension ebbed away from Tobirama’s shoulders as the children commenced a somewhat organised turn snuggling up to his sides or sitting on his lap throughout the whole feast.

Tobirama would be spoiled with love if he chose to live here.

Thus, the reason Madara was currently shadowing Tobirama to return to his house in the Uchiha compound. There were few things that Tobirama wished to retrieve, but he kept postponing on it until a very confused and agitated Madara offered to accompany him into the compound.

At first, Madara was confused at Tobirama’s obvious hesitance to return to the compound of the clan he used to be willing to selflessly die for.

Then, he _noticed,_ and he understood.

“Tobirama-sama?”

Madara would’ve missed the flinch if he blinked.

Tobirama turned around slowly, wary caution leaking out of his stiff posture. His gaze returned to its former habit of avoiding eye contact, looking at the speaker’s ears instead of her dark eyes. He was slightly leaning back, much like a child expecting a harsh scolding, or perhaps—

—like a man expecting harsh words to be hurled to his face.

The Uchiha woman who stopped them in their track smiled warmly at them, yet Madara’s eyes picked up the wary flicker in Tobirama’s own, and the slight shift in his weight—the man was leaning _away_ from the woman in such a subtle way that no one would notice if they didn’t have their gaze fixed on the Uchiha Demon like the creep Madara was.

Madara frowned as he sensed the bijuu-infused chakra that spread across their surroundings as if Tobirama was seeking for some hidden personnel that might be hiding somewhere around them.

_Why?_

Madara resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut when the realisation dawned into him.

Of course.

Of course, Tobirama would react like this.

How many times have this clan tried to stab him in the back when he let his guard down?

Plenty enough, that after the torture he went through in Kumo, it was perfectly reasonable for Tobirama to not attempt tolerating any betrayals that would inflict pain on him. Who would want any more pain after a whole year and a half being subjected to torture?

“Masami-san,” Tobirama greeted with a quiet voice, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “Do you need anything from me?”

Masami fumbled with the bundle she has been holding.

Tobirama reflexively shifted backwards.

Madara instinctively _reacted_.

The Senju leant closer to plaster his body by Tobirama’s side before Masami could raise her head and noticed that her former Clan Head was just about to take a defensive stance against her. Tobirama’s dark eyes glanced in Madara’s direction, confusion written all over the dark orbs, filled with unspoken questions.

Madara didn’t say anything, but shot a cheeky grin to Tobirama instead, shifting around so that he could link his arm with Tobirama’s like the spoiled younger brother of Senju Hashirama he was and rested his temple against the bony shoulders. He squeezed the frail hand in his own, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles on Tobirama’s palm and let out a pleased hum when the shoulder that pillowed his head slowly relaxed.

Tobirama squeezed his hand, grateful.

 

* * *

 

People said that he has a bad unnerving habit of staring at people. 

Well, Yamanaka Inomaru begged to differ. It was called _casual observation_ , thank-you-very-much. It’s not creepy nor it was unnerving. It was such a fun hobby to have, especially when you’re a Clan Head and long boring meetings were a prominent fixture in your daily schedule.

People were fascinating creatures. Sure, most people were flat-out mundane, but some were very fun and interesting to observe.

The Uchiha Demon, for example, was not surprisingly an exquisite specimen.

“You’re being a creep,” Shikako murmured under her breath, digging her elbow into his thigh. “Stop it.”

At the far end of the table, Chonami halted—her hefty mass that was wedged between Uchiha Tobirama and Senju Madara made the two titans seemed small—as she stopped her task distributing the food to everyone at the table, distracted by her best friends’ shenanigan. She shot Inomaru a sharp warning glare before schooling her face to a patient persistent expression as she proceeded to add a generous helping of rice into Tobirama’s bowl.

Tobirama accepted the food with a resigned smile, mouthing a soft gratitude to the Akimichi’s matriarch although there was a somewhat fearful amusement that gleamed in his eyes upon seeing the mountain of rice in his own bowl.

Chonami retreated with a firm acknowledging nod—the unspoken order for the famed demon to properly eat his food was clear from the stern look in her face.

Inomaru ignored the persistent jab of the sharp elbow to his thigh and focused his attention on the Uchiha.

Tobirama slowly dug into the food, eating at an abnormally slow pace, but seemed to enjoy the food regardless. He occasionally picked on his food, before not-so-discreetly transferred pieces of greasy meat from his bowl into the bowl of the person sitting next to him. Madara took a surprisingly long time to notice that—being distracted arguing over their earlier meeting agenda with his almost sister-in-law. When the younger Senju finally noticed the piling meat in his bowl, he promptly scowled, scrunching his face at the unrepentant Uchiha Demon.

The younger of the Senju’s brothers then proceeded to dump his share of fish into the Uchiha’s bowl.

Tobirama silently ate, the faintest hint of a smile grew on his face.

One glance at the Hokage, and Inomaru has to hide a snort behind his palm at the obvious overprotective disapproval written all over Hashirama’s face. Beside the Shodai, Lady Uzumaki hid an amused smile behind her sleeves, clearly not on the same boat as her soon-to-be husband.

It was very, very amusing.

Lunch has never been so fun.

Then, Tobirama’s smile dropped when they have cleaned their plates and the desserts finally arrived.

Inomaru removed his observing gaze from the silver-haired man to thank the Uchiha lady that was distributing the plates of mochi. It was the Uchiha clan’ turn to prepare desserts for their after-meeting feast, and to be honest, Inomaru was looking forward to the desserts.The sharingan-wielding clan always prepared mochi whenever they were on dessert duty, and Inomaru cherished the sweets with all of his heart. The Uchiha’s mochi has the most exquisite fillings that could not be found anywhere else.

Though, this time, the Yamanaka didn’t immediately dig into his favourite dessert.

He halted mid-chewing once his gaze landed back on the former Clan Head of the Uchiha. He was expecting Tobirama to eagerly dig into the sweets—having already seen the end result of Senju Madara's sweet tooth that has infected the Uchiha Demon's palate—only to be both surprised and concerned when it was the exact opposite.

Yamanaka Inomaru ignored his dessert in favour of observing his subject, forehead scrunched to a frown when he saw Tobirama very discreetly sniffed at his food—a frown graced the man’s forehead afterwards, his dark eyes veiled with suspicions. The blonde man watched in curious silence when the famed demon gingerly poked on the mochi, turning and rolling the sticky sweets with his chopstick without looking like he wanted to eat them.

It piqued Inomaru’s curiousity.

A quick glance around the feast table told him that he wasn't the only one who noticed Tobirama's behaviour.

Shikako’s eyes have sobered up, no longer clouded with her trademark boredom glaze but instead gleamed in sharp attention as she eyed the Uchiha demon—the way she narrowed her eyes told Inomaru that the cogs of her brain were already working on a theory. Hashirama and Mito shared a discreet glance with each other, but neither revealed more of their thoughts than the tight grim line of their faces. Uchiha Izuna sat hunched at his seat, mismatched gaze not moving from his lap, his fingers curled into tight fists on the fabric of his pants while Tobirama Kagami sent him a somewhat accusing look. Chonami was frowning in the demon’s direction, but like the rest of the leaders who have noticed the odd behaviour, she didn't bring it up.

Then, their attention on Tobirama was broken when a hand reached out to grasp the demon’s wrist—the hold was loose yet grounding as Tobirama’s hand was tugged towards his right, where Madara very casually leant close to bite the mangled mochi directly from his chopstick.

Despite the smug childish smile on his face, Madara’s eyes were sharp when he levelled a look into Tobirama’s eyes.

"It’s good,” he said, fingers tightened briefly around the bony wrist in his hold before he retreated to his seat like nothing ever happened.

Inomaru couldn’t help but feel that Madara was not commenting on the taste of the mochi.

Tobirama stopped toying with his dessert.

 

* * *

 

“Keeping it bottled up is not good for your health, you know?”

Tobirama flinched, shoulders tensed for a split second before his face fell to a complete poker face as he pulled his shirt down. It felt weird wearing his own clothes now that the fabric clung so loosely where it was once a perfect fit on his frame. After all, Uchiha’s high-necked collar typically did not allow for impromptu adjustment, unlike Senju’s more adjustable kimono shirt.

He should’ve accepted Ayame’s offer to help him with his laundry.

Tobirama was considering to Hiraishin really quick to Madara’s room and steal a few more of those adjustable shirts (if he got to avoid the inevitable confrontation with Jiro in the process, then it was a bonus) when suddenly there was a burst of chakra from a sunshin and before he knew it, he was looking down at thick dark mane of his elder brother as cold hand planted firmly on his stomach where the seal on his skin pulsed with Matatabi’s chakra.

“See?” Jiro hummed, looking up at him with a smug smile. “Even Tabi agrees. Bottling up your feelings is not good.”

“Tabi agrees with everything that is against me,” Tobirama snorted, restraining a shudder when Jiro’s cold hand moved up to lightly skim over his protruding ribs. “The cat is devil’s advocate." 

The bijuu inside his body sent a wave of smugness that vibrated from the seal.

Tobirama instinctively pouted.

Jiro blinked, completely taken aback.

Then, he cursed.

“I understand Madara now,” the corpse grumbled, swearing strings of colourful words under his breath before he tilted his chin up—his glare made Tobirama cowered despite his baby brother’s towering height.

“Anija?”

“Sit,” Jiro huffed, tugging Tobirama to sit on the un-made futon.

“Anija, what—”

“Shush.”

Something hard and sweet touched his lips and Tobirama has to fumble to catch the candy that was shoved into his mouth. He spent a full minute gaping at the round candy in his palms, blinking in disbelief.

“Anija, I told you to stop stealing my kids’ candies!” Tobirama scowled, staring at the pouch of candies in the corpse’s hands with utter disbelief. “You can’t even taste them!”

“But you can,” Jiro retorted.

He emphasized that point by shoving another candy into Tobirama’s mouth, keeping his hand over the silver-haired man’s mouth until Tobirama has swallowed the candy.

“You're ridiculous," Tobirama mouthed, disbelief dripping from each of his syllables, although the corners of his lips tugged to an amused smile when Jiro rewarded him with a pat on the head and an orange lollipop. "How old do you think I am?"

“Seven years younger than me.”

Tobirama rolled his eyes, this time allowing the genuine amused smile to crack on his face.

Jiro grinned, reaching out a hand to touch the corner of that smile, his eyes softened as his own smile grew fonder. Jiro set the candies aside, folding his knees to sit near his younger brother, arms spread in open invitation. When Tobirama hesitantly leant into his invitation, Jiro pulled the man closer, hooking his chin over the top of the silver hair. He smoothened his hand over the tensed shoulder, rubbing the tension away until the stiffness slackened, and his baby brother has really melted in his embrace.

“Much better, isn’t it?” he hummed, threading his fingers through the silver hair.

Tobirama's response was simply to roll around, curled his body up on the smaller lap and buried his face into the folds of Jiro’s clothes. It didn’t take long until his breathing calmed down to the pace that usually indicated near-sleep status as he allowed himself to relax, lulling himself to sleep with the soft sounds of Jiro’s breathing.

It went on like that for a solid half an hour—Jiro stroking the silver strands of his brother’s hair, while Tobirama laid curled up on the elder’s lap, finally relaxed after a whole day of being tensed—before the silence was broken.

“You haven’t actually forgiven them,” Jiro hummed—a statement rather than a question—as he moved one hand to keep Tobirama in place, squeezing the bony shoulders soothingly when the tension returned to those shoulders.

Silence. Then, a soft mutter;

“There is nothing to be forgiven.”

Jiro caught Tobirama’s shifty gaze and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Liar.”

Tobirama didn’t deny it.

 

* * *

 

Izuna was staring. 

Madara shifted in discomfort, somehow feeling the intensity of the gaze from those mismatched eyes on his back even without giving in to his urge to turn around and yell at the Uchiha Clan Head, asking the man what the fuck was his problem to indulge in this creepy staring.

Izuna has been staring at him the moment Madara stepped into the Hokage Tower.

It was starting to agitate the hot-tempered Senju.

Madara grumbled under his breath, striding past the fumbling clerks without even bothering to hide his annoyance—and probably traumatising the poor staffs in the process—as he made his way into Tobirama’s office. Cradling his own completed paperwork in one arm, Madara gathered the neat stack of paperwork on the Uchiha’s table into his other arm.

Apparently, to physically ban Tobirama from the Hokage Tower didn’t work out as they planned. The man still managed to get around the ban to get his hands on his work.

 _Workaholic asshole_ , the Senju internally grumbled, skimming through the budget reports that have been amended and corrected by Tobirama.

As much as he was grateful someone in the tower actually has the brain to deal with this budgeting, Madara made a mental note to bribe the kids. This was getting out of hand. Tobirama needed to stop using the kids to get his hands on his work. Recovery leave should be utilized to rest, not ordering devoted children to sneak into his office and retrieve his paperwork. Jinchuuriki or not, Mito has ordered the Uchiha Demon to take it easy until he regained his former healthy physique.

Seeing how frail the man looked like with his bones protruding beneath his terribly pale skin was enough to give a good number of Clan Heads in the tower unnecessary anxiety. Add that to Izuna’s persistent hovering, Tobirama’s presence at work was more of a distraction than it should be.

And like usual, Mito’s professional advice fell into deaf ears.

One of these days, Madara would really make true of his threat to strap the stubborn man to bed should he even attempt to persuade some innocent kids to retrieve his works from the tower.

Madara halted mid-plotting when he felt the privacy seals of Tobirama’s office flared up, his body tensed on reflex when he heard the soft click as the door was locked. The Senju’s Clan Heir turned around, chakra flaring in a slight defensive mode, only to be toned down to its original calm state once he saw the hunched man at the door.

“Izuna,” Madara greeted, tipping his head to the side and only briefly indulged in the annoyance at the odd lightness off the movement now that his hair was short. “Is there anything that you want from me?”

Silence.

Madara cocked an eyebrow.

“I just hope that we could talk?” The Uchiha Clan Head finally asked (after what it felt like a full five minutes of nervous shifting), voice soft and hesitant. “Madara-san?”

Madara’s reaction to the overly formal and polite name was instantaneous.

 “What the fuck, Uchiha?” he openly scowled, not even hiding how weirded out he felt at Izuna’s formality. “Act normal, can you?”

Izuna winced, lowering his gaze to stare at the floor. Madara rolled his eyes and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, exercising the high-level of patience he had learnt from growing up with Hashirama as he waited for Izuna to say something.

Madara almost yawned in boredom when Izuna finally spoke.

“I need to ask you something.”

There was a hint of a nervous tremble in his voice.

Madara couldn’t help but feel slightly weirded out. The Izuna that he remembered was the sneering arrogant brat that openly displayed joy on his own brother’s funeral. The Izuna that he remembered never lowered his gaze like this, considering that there was never an ounce of humility existed in that brat. The Izuna that he remembered always called him with an arrogant sneer of ‘ _Madara_ ’, his tone would be laced with disgust and mockery.

This Izuna was an exact opposite.

It felt like Madara left Konoha for one measly year and someone has swapped Uchiha Izuna with a fake that was disturbingly polite and humble.

“Sure,” Madara obliged, leaning against the polished edge of Tobirama’s table, hands rested on the edge of the table in what he hoped was a casual posture as he tried hard to play it cool and not display his curiousity. “What is it?”

Izuna visibly swallowed, the defeated glimmer in his mismatched eyes were that of a resignation and regretful acceptance, his voice was shaky and soft as he asked;

“Aniki hates me, doesn’t he?”

Madara’s eyes widened, meeting Izuna’s hesitant gaze with a piqued interest.

 _So he noticed._ He internally mused.

“What makes you think so?” The Senju countered, playing a fool as he moved one hand to thread through and tug his regrettably short hair—a habit he picked up ever since he hacked his mane short. “You two looked closer than ever that it was both adorable and irritating.”

Izuna lowered his gaze, twisting his fingers subconsciously in a nervous gesture under Madara’s scrutinizing stare.

“He feels…,” the Uchiha started, seeming like he was looking for the right word before he settled with one, “... _colder_.”  Izuna shook his head and shuddered, averting his eyes from meeting Madara’s when he mumbled, “I have this feeling that he is just putting up a show to humour me.”

Madara hummed, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table he was leaning against.

“Yes and no,” he finally decided, causing Izuna’s gaze to snap up from the floor to stare at him.

“Uh,” the Uchiha blurted out. “What?”

“Yes, he is a bit cold to you, but no, he doesn’t hate you.”

Izuna blinked owlishly, his confusion was evident in his mismatched eyes.

Madara quirked a soft smile and left his lean against the table so that he could plant a hand on Izuna’s shoulder.

“He could never hate you,” he said—an undeniable truth he knew would be a painful blow to the man in front of him. “He loves you so deeply, Izuna,” Madara added, squeezing the shoulder in his grip when Izuna flinched upon his words. “He is just protecting himself. Give him time and space to heal, and things might get better for you two.”

Izuna’s pursed his lips, teeth abusing the soft flesh of his trembling lips.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” the Uchiha murmured.

They both heard the unspoken ‘ _anymore’_ but no one brought it up.

"You know why he has a hard time to believe that," Madara quirked a half-crooked smile, squeezing Izuna's shoulder once when the trembles of the Uchiha's body started to become obvious before he pulled the shorter man into a one-arm hug. “Trust is like paper. You crumpled it once, and it would never be the same again. You have to be patient with him.”

Izuna snorted, the sound lodged in his throat and resembled a choked sob instead. “One year you’re gone and suddenly you came back with sage-like wisdom?”

“Not my fault your brother’s summon enjoyed dropping words of wisdom every moment possible,” Madara retorted with an annoyed scowl. “And she ganged up with _my_ summon against me. I spent the whole year hearing them trading cryptic sage words back and forth.”

This time Izuna did chuckle.

“I have never heard the leopard spoke.”

“Be grateful you didn’t,” Madara finally released Izuna, allowing the Uchiha to see the disgruntled expression on his face. “I now know from where Tobi picked up his weird speech. Thank fuck Konoha has exposed him to normal human interaction.”

Izuna snorted again, allowing his hand to reach out and squeeze Madara’s arm in a quick grateful pulse.

“Thanks,” he said, turning around on his heels, leaving the door open behind him.

Izuna was almost at the end of the hallway when the realization hit the Senju's Clan Heir. Madara fumbled and chased after the Uchiha, stopping the man with a loud yell of his name. The Uchiha Clan Head tilted his head back, one dark brow cocked in curiosity.

“Yes?”

Madara huffed, making an aimless gesture up and down Izuna’s body.

“Why do you ask me?” he asked, feeling the desperate need to ask now that even Izuna has gotten involved in the increasing number of people who looked for him whenever they wanted to ask about Tobirama. “You already know about Jiro, who is his emotional support for the past twelve years. Kagami is practically his legal son by now. Ayame and Sakuno are attached to him and are mature enough to notice these stuff. Hashirama is his best friend. Why ask me?”

Izuna gave him a blank confused stare.

"You're his lover," the Clan Head deadpanned, with a tone so flat and matter-of-factly as if he was stating obvious facts—facts like the sky is blue, Mito is a sadist, Uchiha has sharingan and Hashirama’s kekkei genkai is mokuton—instead of a well-kept secret of budding romance that has just been rekindled. “By default, I assume you know best about his emotional state than anyone else.”

Madara gaped.

Then, he yelled;

“How did you know??!!”

“Uh…,” Izuna blinked, now even more confused. “You’re basically parading it around?”

Madara blinked, utterly confused when Izuna pointed at the pendant that was peeking out of the collar of his shirt.

“WHAT?!”

 

* * *

 

“When did you claim him?” 

Tobirama paused his hand, letting his long bony digits to simply sink in Sakuno’s thick silver hair instead of threading through it—his dear baby cousin has long nodded off to sleep, using his lap as a pillow and his forearm as a teddy bear. Shifting his gaze from the shogi board, Tobirama tilted his head to the side, pondering on the answer.

“Officially?” he hummed, picking up a knight piece. “Three months ago. Unofficially—”

“Wait, is there an _unofficial_ claim?”

Tobirama shrugged.

“I gave the necklace before I left for the mission,” he answered with a frown, biting his lower lips as he practically glared at the shogi board. “Planned to tell him once I returned. Turn out it took over a year later for that to happen.”

There was a long contemplative silence filled with an air of disapproval. Then, his elder brother spoke with a barely restrained frustration edged in his voice;

“Did you tell him what it meant?”

Silence. Then, a hesitant;

“Not yet.”

Red eyes spinning with three tomoe widened in the black sclera. “ _What._ ”

“Haven’t got the time with all the hospital, adjusting to Tabi and dealing with the mess that Hashi made in the village’s management.”

“Tobi, what the fuck.”

“Anija, _language_.”

  

* * *

 

“So, I’m engaged to you.”

Tobirama winced, pointedly avoiding meeting the displeased dark eyes as he opted to his favourite evasive technique and retreated back to his old habit back when he still has broken eyesight.

“Tobi, stop staring at my ears,” Madara growled, one hand reached up to firmly planted his palm on Tobirama’s cheek, forcing the older man to look him straight in the eye. “You have Eternal Mangekyou now. You can’t play that card anymore.”

Tobirama grimaced. “Not engaged,” he clarified. “Yet.”

Madara quirked an eyebrow.

“It is just a claim to fend off other suitors and show that I’m interested in you.”

“Uh-huh,” Madara nodded, removing his hand so that he could cross his arms in front of his chest. “So why am I not aware of this claim?”

"I got captured before I could explain?" Tobirama offered meekly, reaching out his hand to thread through Madara's short hair, pulling the Senju closer so that he could rest their foreheads together. "Remember when I said that I have something to tell you when I got back?" he murmured, lips hot and mere millimetres away from Madara’s gaping mouth.

“You took your damn sweet time to come back, asshole,” Madara’s grumble was not as angry as he intended, but instead, it was close to a sulky whine instead. “I have to haul your ass home.”

“And I’m grateful you did so,” Tobirama chuckled, brushing the spiky bangs away from Madara’s eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut, a sigh slipped past his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, tilting his face up to plant a kiss on Madara’s forehead. “Thank you.”

Madara's eyes fluttered shut, hearing the unspoken gratitude in those words.

_Thank you for rescuing me._

_Thank you for holding on to hope when no one else does._

_Thank you for loving me so deeply._

Madara planted his hands on Tobirama’s jaw, pulling the older man closer until their chests were pressed flush to each other. He tilted his face, lips brushing Tobirama’s own, only to part willingly when Tobirama leant to close the little distance they had between each other. It was soft and languid—far calmer than their first kiss that tasted of blood and spiked with the exhilarating thrill of being chased by enemies—but it was passionate all the same.

“Always,” Madara murmured, nipping on Tobirama’s willing lips.

Tobirama deepened the kiss again, acknowledging the unspoken promises of that single word.

_I’ll always find you._

_I’ll always hold on to hope._

Madara whimpered, fingers tightened to fist in the silver hair, tugging lightly to invoke a pleased groan from the famed Uchiha’s demon.

 _I’ll always love you_.

They parted with stuttering heavy breaths, cheeks flushed to a matching tint of pink, lips red from pulsing blood beneath their skin and eyes glazed with the hazy weight of their emotions. They still had their hands tangled in each other’s hair—now the hold was slackened instead of the desperate gripping it was a few seconds ago—as they rested their forehead against each other, noses nuzzling playfully.

Madara smiled first.

Tobirama cracked a tiny hesitant smile.

“Forever?” Tobirama asked—hesitance, doubt and hope all mingled in one word.

_Will you stay with me…forever?_

“Forever,” Madara assured—confidence and determination dripped from that one word.

_I will, idiot. Forever._

They sealed the unspoken promise with another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this surprise MadaTobi chapter.


	8. To end it with a happy note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. And tell me your thoughts.

“Well, at least I can trust Madara to help him heal.”

Hashirama whined, attempting to nudge the heavy weights that were draped over his back while at the same time not wanting to tear his gaze away from the scene that was unfolding in the office. He has responsibilities as an elder brother to protect his baby brother’s virtue after all.

(Though, from the way Madara was pinning Tobirama against the wall, hands roaming hungrily all over the Matatabi jinchuuriki’s body while said jinchuuriki was rendered flushing as red as his own sharingan, whimpering softly against Madara’s throat—it might not be Madara’s virtue that required protection.)

(Hashirama was forever going to blame Touka for including his innocent baby brother in that one seduction mission.)

“At least my baby cousin found a reliable man to hold his leash.”

Hashirama dug his elbow to the hard abdomen that was half-clinging to his back. Touka has no right to make that comment.

“Times like this I wish I had the sharingan.”

Hashirama whimpered in pure disbelief upon hearing his soon-to-be wife’s words.

Tobirama let out an embarrassingly heated groan.

Hashirama did not want to know what Madara’s hand was doing despite his inability to tear his gaze away from the little gap of the door they were peeking from. He shifted a bit, starting to feel the strain of supporting three different weights on his back, as Mito, Touka and Jiro leaned heavily over him, trying to get a better look inside the room.

Hashirama inhaled a deep breath and peeked through the gap again.

The God of Shinobi screamed in horror.

 

* * *

 

“So mean, Madara-chan,” Mito huffed, eyeing the not-amused deadpan stare of her brother-in-law and the embarrassed flush of the Uchiha Demon. “Tobirama-kun. I expect better from you.” 

“The privacy ward is there for a reason,” Madara grumbled, sending an annoyed look at the unconscious form of his elder brother. “How the hell are you able to break Tobi’s genjutsu this quick?”

Mito tsk-ed delicately.

“We know that we’re attempting to peek on an Uchiha who happened to be the strongest sensor in our history,” the Uzumaki princess stated, tilting her head in Tobirama’s direction. “It is an expected situation.”

Touka placed her arm on top of Jiro’s head, using him as an armrest as she grinned down to the reanimated corpse with a fond gleam in her eyes. “And this dead brat looked terribly amused for some godforsaken reason.”

“I’m older than you, Touka-chan.”

“You’re forever fourteen, Jiro-kun.”

Madara rolled his eyes, lacing his fingers with Tobirama’s as he practically dragged the older man away from Mito, Touka and Jiro.

“Don’t break the genjutsu for him,” the Senju’s Clan Heir warned, pointing at Hashirama’s unconscious form. “And if he asked, I’m not going to visit until he learnt the meaning of ‘privacy,” he huffed, turning around to face Tobirama. “Teleport us  _home_.”

Tobirama’s tiny smile was content and indulgent as he obediently obliged to that demand.

In a blink of an eye, both of them disappeared, leaving nothing as a sign that they have ever been in the office in the first place apart from the unconscious form of the Shodai Hokage.

“ _Home,_ he says,” Mito remarked, amused. “Since when did he move out of our compound?”

“Don’t mind that,” Touka said, gesturing wildly at the spot where the duo was previously standing. “Did you see how they talk to each other? I’m not imagining the one-word conversation, right?” she mused, voice hitching in disbelief. “Remind me again how long have they been together?”

Jiro snorted.

“Officially? Three months,” the reanimated Uchiha said, wriggling his head away from beneath Touka’s arm. “The actual courting? Probably a few months after Konoha’s construction began.”

Touka gaped.

“Well, fuck,” the Senju’s kunoichi swore, eyes widened in disbelief.

Mito hid a snicker behind her sleeves as Touka’s expression became more and more bewildered—the Senju kunoichi’s voice was soft and trembling with disbelief as she mouthed;

“Those two skipped straight to old married couple phase in just a few years.”

Jiro hummed in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Hashirama took a solid three months to resist his brotherly urge to butt into his baby brother’s romantic life. 

It was a torturous three months for the Hokage but was a highly amusing period for Jiro, deeply hilarious months for Touka and highly entertaining experience for Mito. Madara exercised the Senju’s hidden kekkei genkai of holding deep spite against his own elder brother, refusing so stubbornly when Hashirama whined and begged him away from his partner, much to the amusement of said partner. He naturally stayed with Tobirama, making himself at home in the warm atmosphere of the Tobirama clan’s compound. The children on the famed inventor's clan have started to see Madara as a permanent fixture in their compound, bounding over to the Senju every morning to greet him with a hug or kisses and hounding him every night as he collaborated with Tobirama to craft their bedtime stories.

By the time Madara finally deemed that Hashirama has learnt his lesson and agreed to return to the Senju’s compound, the children were so used to his presence in their home.

Like all children, the Tobirama clan as a whole used their brightly manipulative charms when they asked Hashirama if he was going to return their Madara-oujiichan before their bedtime.

The God of Shinobi lost to the manipulative children.

Madara officially moved into Tobirama’s compound.

 

* * *

 

Touka regretted that she played a part in killing Jiro.

The deceased Uchiha was  _awesome_. He was a perfect balance of an adorable loving aniki and a mischievous evil big brother. Neither Tobirama nor Izuna escaped his  _interference,_ much like neither Hashirama nor Madara could ever escape Touka’s own  _interference_ in their life.

He could be her perfect soulmate if he is alive.

But he couldn't, because he has long died.

Touka shook the emotions away, reminding herself that she was a seasoned shinobi and deaths were a part of her life. She leant over the reanimated corpse, wrapping her strong arms around his undeveloped shoulders as they attempted to peek into the open gap of the closet.

It has been a full 24-hours since they launched this plan. Something should have happened by now.

Touka’s eyes softened when Jiro quirked a relieved smile once their gaze landed into the huddled duo in the closet.

 _He is so cute._

“You’re horrible,” Madara grumbled somewhere from his sulky perch behind them. “Both of you are.”

Touka snorted and turned around to shoot her baby cousin a flat look. “You said it yourself that you’re very tempted to shove them into a closet and lock them in until they sort themselves out.”

“I can’t believe you literally shove  _the_ Uchiha Demon and Uchiha-fucking-Izuna into a literal closet,” Madara retorted, eyeing the red barrier surrounding said closet in complete disbelief. “Both of you are terrible.”

“I highly doubt shoving them both in a get-along shirt would be effective,” Jiro piped in absent-mindedly, voice soft as he leant to peek into the closet again.

Neither Touka nor Madara commented when the reanimated Uchiha discreetly wiped his eyes with his sleeves.

Touka hugged him. As much as it saddened her to know that his time here was approaching to an end, she was happy that he finally has the hope to achieve his dream after these twelve and a half years being taken from his rightful place in the afterlife.

She leant over his head to peek into the closet again, feeling her own happiness welled in upon seeing that her (second) favourite Uchiha was finally able to start getting over his pain and mend the broken bridges of his past.

It was such a heartwarming sight, to see the Uchiha brothers embracing each other like true brothers, after all these years of watching them going against each other—Izuna’s hatred to Tobirama at first, before the Kumo debacle happened and the situation was reversed when it was Tobirama who was wary of Izuna, fearing to be abused and feel pain again.

There would be more struggles and stumbles in their path of reconciliation—considering that Touka did not miss the slight gleam of doubt in Tobirama’s eyes, even when Izuna so desperately clung to him, looking like he did not want to let his elder brother slipped from his hands again—but they were no longer alone.

Hashirama and Madara would not let them return to their hostile beginning. The leaders of Ino-Shika-Cho clans adored Tobirama way too much to see him suffered from his own fears. Kagami, despite his reluctance, prioritised his father's happiness more than anything else. The brothers would be fine.

And perhaps it was a selfish desire of hers, but she honestly didn’t mind if the Uchiha brothers took their damn sweet time mending their ties. She really didn’t mind.

Touka cast a longing look to the fond glaze in the pronged sharingan of the reanimated corpse in her arms.

Yep. The Uchiha brothers could take their damned sweet time.

Touka wouldn’t mind.

 

* * *

 

“Madara.” 

Madara grunted, planting a kiss on Tobirama’s forehead, before lavishing the closed lids with fluttering kisses. He moved down to Tobirama’s nose, kissing along the bridge before nipping at the tip. There was a somewhat chortled laugh that erupted from Tobirama’s throat, prompting Madara to repeat the action, nipping the tip of the pale nose again.

Tobirama leant up to capture the Senju’s lips in a languid chaste kiss.

“Tease,” he murmured when they parted, taking the chance of Madara’s dazed condition to return the favour and nip on the Senju’s nose.

Madara flushed.

“I’m not teasing you!” he vehemently denied but seemed reluctant all the same to leave his comfortable spot atop the older man.

Tobirama huffed a quiet laugh. “Liar.”

“Am not!”

“Then?” Tobirama questioned, throwing an arm over the mass on top of him when Madara started to squirm away. “You have been showering me with these little kisses and hugs every time we’re alone. Not that I’m complaining, but—”

“I’m compensating.”

Tobirama blinked, confusion evident in his dark eyes. “What?”

Madara looked up to meet those dark eyes, the gleam in his eyes was fiercely determined. He gently cupped Tobirama's jaw with one hand, the other curled on the man's solid bicep with fevered determination as he continued his earlier task, showering Tobirama's face with kisses. He ignored the baffled gaze of his lover as he curled his fingers around the strong wrist, tracing trails of kisses up Tobirama's arm—completely appreciating the mass of muscles that the older man has regained since the past months.

Madara kissed the tip of Tobirama’s fingers, his breath was warm as he murmured against the battle-roughened palm;

“I’m compensating all the love you have been denied all these decades.”

He punctuated those sincere words with kisses up Tobirama’s clothed shoulders and ended up with a playful kiss at the length of Tobirama’s jaw.

“Just accept the love, okay?”

Tobirama flushed pink, eyes darkened with overwhelming emotions.

“You can’t just say that,” he whimpered, dark eyes closed in strained patience behind his silver hair. “Sage help me.”

Madara hummed in amusement and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Tobirama groaned.

Then, he fisted his fingers in Madara’s shoulder-length hair, flipping their position until Madara was caged between his limbs. He leant down to return the favour, nipping and kissing every inch of Madara’s exposed skin. Sliding the loose kimono off Madara’s right shoulder, his lips peppered the scarred skin with bruising kisses, leaving his mark all over the flushed skin. Madara’s hands came up to fist his own hair, a tiny gasp escaped the Senju’s lips when Tobirama sucked a lovebite right at the junction connecting his neck and shoulder.

Tobirama bent down to kiss the pendant that was etched with the pattern of his Mangekyou. His hands completely slid the kimono off Madara’s shoulders, leaving the fabric bunched up at the younger man’s waist. He held the pendant between his lips, eyes hooded with want.

“I want to see you only wearing my claim,” he murmured, hands slipping down to untie the simple obi that was hiding Madara’s torso from complete exposure. “Just this,” he added, kissing the embossed pattern on the pendant, “Wear only my claim and nothing else.”

Madara whimpered, back arching in want as he pressed his bare torso against Tobirama’s body, aligning the length of their bodies together, hands tangling in the silver hair as he pulled the older man into another kiss. This time, it was nothing like their calm innocent kiss earlier. It was hungry and wanting, a reminisce of their first kiss—all passion and exhilaration packed in an aggressive duel of tongue and teeth as if that was their very last kiss—as Madara’s hands mapped each scar on Tobirama’s pale body while the Uchiha did the exact same, indulging in his curiousity to learn everything about his partner.

It was then when the universe decided to be a horrible cockblocker and interfered.

“Shishou?”

Tobirama quickly pulled away, tugging the Senju’s sleep kimono back up and hid Madara’s marked chest from view as their door slid open. Light spilt from the hallway through the gap of the open door, and Tobirama instinctively slapped his hand over Madara's mouth, stopping the curses from falling out of the younger's man's lips as the children dragged their feet to his bed, pillow and plush toy in their grip.

He schooled his face to that of an indulgent loving look, fixing his own kimono before he rose out of the bed.

“Yes, children?

“Can we sleep with you tonight, shishou?”

Tobirama’s gaze landed on their hopeful faces, noting the tears streaking some of those chubby cheeks and his heart instantly melted. The Uchiha Demon smiled indulgently, gesturing to his bed as he nodded his permission;

“Of course, sweethearts.”

The horde of children clambered onto the bed.

Madara buried his face to the pillow and screamed.

 

* * *

 

“I swear to Rikudou Sennin,” Madara grumbled the next morning, stabbing onto his food with his chopstick. “We’re not even married yet, but  _this_ already happened.” 

Tobirama laughed, brushing the uneven strands of Madara’s bangs and tucked the dark hair behind the Senju’s ears.

“Sorry,” he mouthed, though the quirk of his smile was completely unrepentant.

“Honestly!” Madara whined, lips curled to a pout even though he did lean towards Tobirama’s palm. “We’re supposed to be frequently cockblocked once we had our  _own_  children, not when we’re still dating….”

“You know that they’re my kids, Madara,” Tobirama hummed, smiling indulgently. “It’s natural for them to seek me when they have nightmares.”

“I know,” Madara grumbled. “Why the hell you think I didn’t kick them out?”

“Because my kids are your kids too?”

Madara flushed pink, spluttering adorably.

At the head of the table, Kagami fondly pretended to gag.

 

* * *

 

“Tobi, why is the fucking cat out?” 

Tobirama grimaced.

Matatabi yawned, curling her fiery tiny form on top of Tobirama's chest and closed her dual-coloured eyes. Her tails flicked back and forth, almost tauntingly playful as she let out a loud purr, resonating her purr with Tobirama's heartbeats.

“I accidentally created a new jutsu?”

Madara gave him a blank stare.

“U-huh. You  _accidentally_ created a new jutsu,” the Senju deadpanned, sounding entirely unconvinced. “ _Accidentally_.”

Sensing that Madara wasn’t buying his bullshit, Tobirama quickly gestured at the purring cat on his chest.

“She demanded it,” he blurted out, wincing at the unamused glare from his lover and the all-too-smug purr of the Niibi. "She used to be free, Madara," he tried to placate his scowling lover, eyes lowered in a way that he knew would make the younger man caved to his pleas. "Tabi sacrificed her freedom to keep me alive. This is the least I can do for her."

It must have worked, because Madara’s eyes softened by just a tiny bit—the gaze he sent towards the mini bijuu was soft and grateful. The Senju dropped his mission supplies by the door and strode towards where Tobirama was lying on the patio, raising a tentative hand to brush the blue flickers of the tiny bijuu’s flame.

“I won’t burn you, Mada-chan,” Matatabi purred, stretching so lazily like the feline she appeared like as she tipped her head to the side to butt the top of her head with Madara’s palm. “Stroke away.”

Madara obeyed, running his curious fingers through the blue flicker of her  _fur_  and had to restrain an awed gape when all that he felt was softness and warmth. He cheered up, lips stretched to a grin and like all cat lovers in the world, he couldn’t resist but reached out his other hand so that he could hold the two flaming paws, pressing his thumbs to the pleasantly warm pads of her paws.

"Oh, sage," Madara blurted out in pure surprise, bringing Matatabi's paws up to press up against his cheeks. "Soft."

Matatabi scowled, silently regretting her demand now. “Human, NO.”

“YES,” Madara retorted, rubbing his thumbs all over the softness of her paws. “YES.”

Tobirama quirked an amused brow, lips twitching to a smile.

“You will pay for this, human,” Matatabi grumbled, but didn’t make any move to retrieve her poor paws from the gleeful Senju. “You. Will. Pay.”

Tobirama smiled indulgently.

 

* * *

 

 _Later that night_ …

 

“Tobi, put the fucking cat out.” 

“I—” Tobirama started, sending a pleading look to the purring bijuu that was nestled on Madara’s pillow. “Tabi—”

“No,” the bijuu growled, tails flickered to lightly slap Tobirama’s cheek. “I have decided to sleep with you two tonight.”

Tobirama let out a heavy, suffering sigh.

Madara spluttered in rage.

“I’m not being cockblocked by you; you fucking, slave-driving, asshole cat—”

Matatabi didn’t even bother to open her eyes when she stopped Madara’s tirade;

“I can give him cat ears and tail if you drag your sorry ass to the bed and cuddle me now, human.”

“Tabi!” Tobirama shouted, shooting his bijuu a scandalized look.

Madara stopped spluttering in rage and now was gaping in surprise, cheeks flushed pink as a lustful glaze floated into his dark eyes when his gaze shifted from the bijuu towards her scandalized jinchuuriki. Tobirama sent him a warning glare, his voice was quiet and dangerous when he hissed;

“Madara, don’t you dare—”

His words fell to deaf ears as Madara dazedly nodded.

“Okay,” the Senju agreed, crawling up the bed to curl around the flaming cat.

Matatabi smirked, kneading her paws against Madara’s chest.

Tobirama shot them both a disbelieving scandalized glare.

“I hate you both,” he muttered.

“No, you love us,” they retorted.

Tobirama buried his face to the pillow and groaned in distress.

 

* * *

 

“By the way, did you know he is working on another interesting research?” 

“Oh?” Madara murmured sleepily. “Wow. I’m so surprised.”

Matatabi snorted. “You’re lucky that you’re so cute all sleepy like that, Mada-chan.”

Madara sleepily flung his hand, knocking the bijuu’s head.

“Aren’t you curious?” the bijuu prompted again. “About his new research?”

“Tabi, I demand your silence else I’m summoning you back into my body.”

Matatabi didn’t give a single fuck to that threat.

“It is an interesting research, though.”

Madara yawned, honestly not bothering to even try to stop those two. He was still recovering from his earlier mission, needing more rest to replenish his depleted chakra reserves, so he wasn’t in the mood to indulge in the argument between his lover and their cat. The bijuu versus jinchuuriki arguments faded to white noises to his ears as he slipped back and forth between sleep and half-consciousness. It was a funny conversation though, as none of their arguments made sense to Madara’s sleep-addled mind.

“You know that normal couple discuss with each other first before they make babies, right?”

“Tabi, STOP.”

“Just a heads-up. You’re lacking common sense in normal human interaction.”

“You’re not even a human, Tabi.”

"I want one of the babies to be named after me."

“Get in line,” Tobirama half-snapped. “Hiruko-sama and Kōjin-sama first.”

Matatabi snorted

“I can’t believe you choose that leopard and panther before me,” the bijuu fake-sobbed. “You broke my heart, Tobi.”

Tobirama groaned.

Madara stopped attempting to stay awake.

These two honestly didn’t make sense at all.

 

* * *

 

Tobirama has prepared himself for this day since the day he returned from Kumo. 

It was by sheer luck that Jiro noticed his fear of getting hurt again, and the elder has made another huge sacrifice when he gave up his chance to return to the afterlife, remaining in the living world with them until Tobirama gathered himself back together.

Fifteen long years the elder had sacrificed—resisting the longing to return to the Pureland—so that he could be there for his little brothers.

Tobirama cast a look towards his sister-in-law, eyes softened in gratitude at the exhausted woman and quirked a thankful smile when Izuna shifted his gaze from his exhausted wife to meet his gaze. Izuna smiled brightly at him, the hint of anxiety was still there as he still could not forget their rough past, his worries of losing Tobirama was still evident in the way he behaved, despite these past few years the Uchiha Clan Head has spent mending his mistakes.

Though, his smile turned bittersweet once his gaze fell on Jiro.

Jiro might think that he was being discreet about it, but both Tobirama and Izuna saw the slight nod their reanimated brother gave to Hashirama, and the responding bittersweet smile the Senju gave in return.

The living Uchiha brothers knew that it was time.

Everything needed an end, after all.

They have kept Jiro here for far too long. It’s time to let go.        

“Anija,” Tobirama called, voice hoarse and cracked at the impending goodbye but he steeled his resolve to meet the eyes of his reanimated brother, hands holding tight to the little precious bundle in his arm. “Would you like to hold your nephew?”

Jiro stared at the newborn infant with widened eyes.

The reanimated corpse tentatively reached out for the bundle, hesitance and worries splashed all over his face even when Izuna carefully arranged his arms before Tobirama tucked the newborn infant into his hold. It was evident that Jiro was no stranger to babies, because he instinctively adapted to the light weight in his arms, rocking his arms and smiled when the little babe gurgled and gave him a toothless sleepy smile.

“Too bad he didn’t get your good looks,” the reanimated corpse teased, giving a cheeky grin to Tobirama. “He looked so much like his mediocre father.”

"Oi," Madara said somewhere behind them, though he was so obviously over the cloud nine to even attempt to add any heat into that.

Tobirama smiled forlornly.

There was an arm thrown over his shoulder and he instinctively reached out, squeezing Izuna’s hand, knowing that they both needed each other’s support for the looming goodbye.

Jiro stared at them both, smiling in approval at the way they were leaning to each other before he offered the child to Madara, rolling his eyes when the Senju immediately latched to the infant and activated his clan’s secret kekkei genkai, wrapping the little babe with protective wave of chakra, much like how Jiro had seen Hashirama did to his own son. Jiro cooed at the baby once before turning around to face his baby brothers, smiling fondly at the mournful glaze in their eyes.

“Come here you troublesome brats,” he huffed, extending his arms in open invitation, only to snort in amusement when they both immediately rushed into his embrace.

One of them was almost thirty-four, while the other just celebrated his thirty-second’s birthday, yet these two were still his troublesome baby brothers. He sighed, squeezing their shoulders when he heard the choked sob that tore from Izuna’s throat and felt the subtle trembles of Tobirama’s body. When they finally let him go, Jiro immediately raised both of his hands, flicking his chakra-coated fingers to their foreheads.

Tobirama hissed. Izuna yowled.

“Anija!” “Nii-chan!” They exclaimed in unison.

Jiro snorted.

“Don’t rush to come to me,” he warned, grinning at the similar scowls they gave him as they rubbed the faint bruise on their foreheads. “And for fuck’s sake, try to get along.”

He leant down to kiss the bruise on their foreheads before they could even retort.

“Goodbye, otoutou.”

He then gave an urging nod to Hashirama.

Hashirama’s eyes were glazed when he released the reanimated Uchiha.

Jiro’s soul rose to the light as his body disintegrated to flakes of swirling papers. He shot a soft smile to the steeled gaze that Touka directed in his direction, mouthing something to her. Touka looked away, body trembling while her jaw hardened, teeth gritted in a tight vice. Jiro reached out his glowing hands to curl on his brothers’ cheeks.

"Goodbye, Anija," Tobirama murmured, hands reached out to Jiro's glowing one.

Beside him, Izuna sobbed a wrecked goodbye, mirroring Tobirama’s action.

Jiro smiled, aligning their palms together.  “Be good to each other,” he mouthed, lips curled to a stern smile.

His baby brothers nodded obediently.

Jiro was moments away from fading to his rightful place when his brother-in-law finally spoke.

“We’re naming him after you.”

Jiro blinked, staring at Madara with widened eyes. The Senju gave him a cheeky grin, gesturing to the child in his arms.

"And I'll lock them in the closet again if they fight," Madara assured, tipping his head in the direction of the Uchiha brothers, unintentionally invoking a chortled silent laugh from the fading soul. He looked up to the soul, face softened with fondness and love that he usually reserved for Hashirama.

“So, rest in peace, Aniki.”

Jiro faded with a bright smile.

 

* * *

“You know that this would mean we need to make another three kids, right?” 

“Kōjin, Hiruko and Matatabi. Another boy and two girls,” Madara hummed, still entranced with his child—lips curled to a smile when little Jiro grasped his fingers in those tiny little fists. “Yep, I know.”

Somewhere in their background, Hashirama spluttered.

"I'm not allowing you to name my nephew and nieces after your summons and the Niibi!!"

They all ignored him.

“I can be surrogate again,” Reiko offered cheekily from her curl in Izuna’s embrace. “It felt so nice to be treated like a queen. I enjoy the treatments I get while being pregnant, but Izuna and I do not wish to give our daughter more than one younger sibling.”

“You enjoyed having three of the most important shinobi in Konoha as your slave for the whole nine months,” Izuna snorted, but cradled his wife closer anyway. “I always know that you’re a sadist.”

“You love me regardless,” she giggled, squeezing his hand. “And I think Matatabi is a cute name for a girl, Aniki. Madara-niisan,” she nodded to the pair, internally cooing over the way the new parents hovered over their newborn infant.

“Don’t encourage them!” Hashirama retorted, only to let out a startled choke when Touka clotheslined him.

“Shush, Hashi,” the Senju kunoichi grinned.

Hashirama spluttered, rubbing his bruised neck.

Mito delicately side-stepped her spluttering husband, reaching out her glowing hand towards Reiko and gave the Uchiha matriarch a pleasant smile.

“Would you like a prescription for quick after-birth recovery?”

Hashirama wailed at her betrayal.

 

* * *

 

Ten years later, Matatabi was summoned out from her jinchuuriki's body to meet Tobirama's youngest daughter.

She imprinted on the little girl instantly, smothering the infant with her protective chakra until it melded with the babe and gave the newborn a similar marking like the bijuu's own markings near her eyes. The child's dark eyes shifted to a lighter tone, carrying a subtle gleam of green and yellow in the onyx orbs.

"What the fuck?"

Tobirama sighed. "Touka,  _language_."

"I carry that brat for 9 months. I want to know what your cat just did to her."

Matatabi purred, wrapping her flickering tails around the sleeping infant.

"I make her mine."

Madara snorted. "I pity our future son-in-law."

Tobirama huffed a quiet laugh.

 

* * *

 

And they all lived happily ever after.

 

* * *

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't clear, they had 4 kids through surrogates. Izuna's wife is the surrogate mother for Madara's kids and Touka is the surrogate for Tobirama's.
> 
> Tobirama's clan main family is the one that wields the rinnegan.
> 
> Kbye.


	9. To continue on with the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm a sucker for ObiKaka, and I want adorable Kakashi in the AU where Sakumo is alive.

The Cat is on the hunt.

The Hound  _runs_.

The ANBU had another round of bets.

 

* * *

 

“Yo,” Bear greets with a two-finger salute, landing on the branch without even disturbing any leaves despite his massive frame. "Guess who just join the bet?”

“Who?” Sparrow asks with a bored tone, admiring the gleam of her polished sword.

“White Fang and the Serpent.”

Sparrow drops her sword. Mouse fumbles and falls off the branch. Tanuki let his drink fell to the ground.

“ _What_?” they exclaim in unison.

“For real?” Tanuki squeaks.

Bear is radiating smugness and morbid amusement. “His own father is betting against him. Poor brat.”

“Holy shit,” Sparrow breathes. “White Fang? Really? He is betting for Cat?”

“Yep,” Bear hums, overly happy to match the supposed stereotype of his job. “Poor Hound.”

“Well, he had it coming,” Tanuki snorts. “That smug brat.”

“That, I have to agree.”

 

* * *

 

“Grandpa?” 

Tobirama looks up from his book, eyes crinkle with a loving gaze upon seeing one of his many grandsons as the young man skips over the patio to land near him at the koi pond. The young man gathers Tobirama into a hug and practically vibrates in happiness when the aged Uchiha Demon instinctively reaches out a hand to ruffle his bright golden hair.

Tobirama smiles indulgingly at the eager enthusiasm in the vibrant blue eyes.

“Skipping training, Minato?” he teases, watching in fond amusement when the young man flails and fumbles under his gaze.

“I’m taking a break!” Minato wails defensively, holding out a paper bag containing some takeaway from Tobirama’s favourite restaurant. “I thought I could have my lunch with both of you,” he says with a pout.

Tobirama couldn’t help but muse over how similar Minato’s behaviour is with Madara and Hashirama. They are all adorable dorks.

Yet, his husband dared to complain that their genius grandson took after Tobirama way too much.

Sure, the last heir of the near-extinct Namikaze clan might have taken after Tobirama in term of his interests towards jutsu and research, but his behaviour is definitely a learnt trait from Madara.

That, and also a tiny bit of scheming trait from his uncle.

Minato is such an impressionable child after all.

There is an actual ban, enforced by Madara himself, that forbade the three of them—by three, he meant his husband, Tobirama; their dear son, Orochimaru; and their beloved grandson, Minato—from locking themselves in the labs and geeking out on whatever trouble they planned to cook up with their genius brains.

One time. That one time they almost accidentally breed artificial bijuu and they had an actual ban to stop their genius.

“Go wake your Grand-dad,” Tobirama smiles, closing the book in his hand and gingerly stands from his perch on the flat stone. “I’ll set-up the table.”

Matatabi's chakra has shielded both him and Madara from the worst disadvantages of ageing—allowing them to remain strong and powerful even when they have recently crossed the line of the three digits age—but sometimes his bones did ache, and his muscles grow weary even when he does nothing that would merit such ache and soreness.

On those days he experienced the brunt of his age, Tobirama enjoys his afternoon by curling up next to his husband, Matatabi’s form curled around their tangled bodies, keeping them warm and safe as they slept the afternoon away.

Minato escorts Tobirama until they reach the house, holding the wrinkled hand in his own before the young man lets go in favour of skipping down the hallway to the living room, where Madara often spends his afternoon naps in. Matatabi trots in from whoever poor sods she just terrorizes (probably one of Hashirama’s grandchildren, if the smugness radiating from her is any indicator) just in time as Madara walks in with a sleepy yawn.

Once they were seated, Minato takes the duty handing out the food to his elders, chatting happily about the last of his training days as the Hokage apprentice while his grandfathers listen with full attention, only occasionally interjecting his cheerful babble to ask questions or give their wise opinions. Matatabi curls on the future Hokage’s lap, tails flicking absent-mindedly in a rhythmic motion that matches Minato’s expressive hands.

“And the ANBU is having their bets again,” Minato grins, arms moving about expressively.

Madara snorts. “What is it this time?”

Minato hesitates, as if just noticing with whom he just shares the Black Ops’ casual silly shenanigans with. This is the Nidaime and his Shadow, the two men that trained the most terrifying set of ANBU in Konoha’s history.

His hesitation is noticed, and he squeaks when both of his grandfathers narrow their eyes at him.

“Um,” Minato says, scratching his neck nervously. “They are betting on the budding relationship of their comrades.”

Madara rolls his eyes. “Children,” he mutters, returning his gaze to his food.

“Who is the lucky people?” Tobirama hums absent-mindedly.

“Cat and Hound.”

Minato braces himself for the outburst.

It never comes. Instead, Madara simply rolls his eyes again, while Tobirama hums happily under his breath.

“Wait…,” the Hokage apprentice splutters, eyeing his grandfathers in disbelief. “You’re okay with that?”

“It’s about damn time,” Madara grumbles. “I’m done with Obito’s pining.”

“I think it’s adorable, though,” Tobirama counters. “He takes after you. So  _adorably_  persistent.”

“Pretty sure that is from his Uchiha side of the genetic,  _Nidaime-sama_.”

"Pretty sure it is not an Uchiha that braved through enemy lines to seek rumours about  _my_ corpse.”

Madara splutters, flushes pink before he harrumphs and pointedly avoids the smug gaze of his husband. He mumbles something under his breath and even with Minato straining his hearing, the blonde could only pick up his own name in his grandfather’s words.

“Um, can you please repeat that, Grand-dad?”

“I said…,” Madara sighs, pinching his brows in what that seemed like an exasperation as he repeats his words, a little bit louder and clearer than earlier, “…keep me updated, Minato.”

Tobirama hums contemplatively.

“Keep  _us_  updated,” the former Nidaime corrects.

Minato wonders what kind of fate he just sealed on his former students.

(Who also happened to be his foster cousin and nephew.)

(Family relationship in Tobirama clan is a mess after too many adoptions happened. Don’t even bother to look up their family tree.)

Minato makes a mental note to run to his favourite uncle for protection, should his grandfathers’ interest in the ANBU’s new entertainment would spark some mischievous vendetta from both the Cat and the Hound.

Obito and Kakashi are terrified of Orochimaru after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Obito is beyond pissed off. 

You thought that being absorbed into ANBU at the age of fourteen—merely three years after his early graduation from the academy—would make Kakashi a somewhat intelligent person, but nooo, the brat is actually an idiot.

A socially inadept idiot.

One simply did not kiss and run.

_What the hell, Bakashi?_

Obito lands on a branch, tilting his porcelain mask up to reveal only his mouth so that he could drink his water. He has already spent the whole day looking for the silver-haired hound—in this vicious summer heat mind you—and now the effects of the heat have hit him and Obito grows reasonably tired. He stares at his bottle with a contemplative gaze and was just about to pour the cool water over his head to stave off the heat when the branch dips upon an additional weight right next to him.

“Yo.”

Obito’s lips curl to a scowl as he tips his head in acknowledgement.

“Shit-sui,” he greets. 

“Jerkbito,” the brat greets back.

Obito pretends to not notice the way Shisui is curiously eyeing the edge of the vertical scar that is visible from behind Obito’s tilted mask. The Cat ANBU resists a snort, remembering the hype his left eye has caused and the botched mission that gave him said eye.

It was his first S-ranked mission, and he ended up losing his left eye to the sword of an enemy, awakened the rinnegan in his right eye because Bakashi was being a suicidal idiot, and then inherited his great-grandfather’s original eye from his great-granduncle because apparently the Uchiha Demon's sharingan is such a valued asset that is treated as a family heirloom, and one of Uchiha Izuna's last wishes before he died was to have his ruby eye to be returned to the bloodline of his brother.

Obito’s grandfather is too old now and has refused the offer due to the waste it would be on him as he enjoyed his retirement age. Obito’s mother has died during childbirth, thus leaving her only son as the heir of Uchiha Tobirama’s bloodline from the Demon's eldest child. 

Obito’s grandaunts and granduncle have refused said offer too, using the same excuse as their eldest brother as they saw no point in inheriting such valued asset while they were in the age that the only thing they wanted to do was to rest at home and play with their grandchildren. Their own children, on the other hand, have awakened rinnegan just like Obito’s mother, thus seeing no point in inheriting the valued sharingan too.

Considering that Obito is the eldest of Uchiha Tobirama’s great-grandchildren and has recently lost one of his eyes, the discussion has led to an agreement that Izuna’s wish would be passed on to Obito.

Tobirama Obito, whose grandfather is a son that came from  _Senju_ Madara’s seeds and being artificially implanted in the womb of Uchiha Izuna’s wife.

Obito has to give it to his great-granduncle for achieving such a high level of epic troll. Giving the coveted sharingan to the bloodline that paternally came from a  _Senju_? Blasphemy! Everyone in the clan knew that the maternal side of Obito’s grandfather came from a distant Uchiha that was not even close to the direct line of their ancestors.

Hooo boy, was that a fun inheritance discussion. The Uchiha’s elders were beyond pissed.

It wasn’t helping when Fugaku, the current Clan Head of the Uchiha, agreed to fulfil his grandfather’s dying wish.

So Obito ended up with the coveted sharingan to replace the eye he has lost in that mission. Yippee.

Shisui is in the same situation as Obito too. Since his father was assassinated just like Obito’s own father, Shisui is Kagami’s direct heir, and due to whatever complicated bullshit politic the Uchiha elders have demanded early on the green years of Konoha, Kagami could not take his ruby eye to the grave. It has to be passed on to the next generation since its power is too fearsome and valuable to be allowed to disappear.

Therefore, it is an unspoken knowledge that when his grandfather finally kicked the bucket, Shisui would inherit the coveted ruby eye of the Uchiha Demon too.

Obito wonders at what point of time they all dutifully accepted that it is perfectly normal to treat someone’s eyes as a family heirloom. This is definitely not normal. No wonder both of Obito and Shisui don't have many friends outside of their clan.

That, and the fact that Obito is entirely convinced that his younger cousin eats babies’ souls as breakfast.

Shisui is one scary brat.

“I found your stray puppy,” the scary brat hums, leering a playful gaze in his cousin’s direction.

Obito rolls his eyes behind his mask.

“What the fuck do you want in exchange for that information, brat?”

“Awww~!” Shisui flashes his teeth in a shark-like grin, extending his hand to pat the ANBU tattoo on Obito’s arm. “You know me too well, obi-chan.”

Obito shudders.

Honest to Shodai-sama, this brat eats babies’ souls as breakfast.

“Just name your price, brat,” Obito grumbles, reaching out a hand to flick his fingers at Shisui’s forehead, of which the boy smoothly evades. “I don’t have all day.”

“Introduce me to your cute new subordinate,” Shisui demands, gesturing to Obito’s mask as if that would make any sense of his request. “The small, cute one.”

Obito weighs his option, wondering if he should sacrifice Itachi for his cause.

A second later he nods his agreement, selling Itachi’s poor soul to his terrifying baby cousin for his own selfish needs.

“I’ll arrange a meeting,” he assures, wincing when Shisui practically beams in happiness. “Free up your training schedule and let me know.”

_Sorry, Itachi._

“Yess!!” The brat cheers, leaning close to hug Obito before he flips off the branch with more flair than necessary, yelling his information to his older cousin. “Kakashi-san is hiding at one of the kennels in the Inuzuka’s compound. The smallest one with a red roof and lots of pugs.”

With that, he sunshin away, a wide happy grin is attached on his face.

Obito pulls his mask down.

The Cat is back on the hunt.

 

* * *

 

Kakashi knows that he has fucked up.

Fucked up. Terribly fucked up. If his grandmother doesn’t murder him, then his granduncles would surely complete the honour. Ancient as they were, Uchiha Tobirama is still the legendary Nidaime of Konoha while Senju Madara is his loyal Shadow, taking over Lady Mito’s role as the advisor and the  _Kage_ , maintaining the order in the darker depths of Konoha where ANBU is the first stage of the village’s hidden darkness.

They are going to kill him, Kakashi just knows it.

Not to mention that his own father would be disappointed in him. And sage knows what his  _maybe_  future step-father, (who happens to be one of the many children Tobirama Jiro has adopted by the way) is going to do to him the moment this comes to their knowledge.

Oh, he also forgets that his former sensei—the future Yondaime Hokage, the last Namikaze—who is also, like his future step-father, is one of the many children Tobirama Jiro has adopted after that mass elimination of small talented clans.

Minato-sensei belongs to Tobirama clan’s messed up chaotic family tree too, and is possibly holding the honorary rank as Obito’s uncle.

Kakashi is royally fucked up. Dead. He is dead.

Why did he kiss Obito again?

Ah, because the older boy is temptingly hot. That’s why.

Kakashi dumps the cold water onto his own head, ignoring the sulky huffs of the pugs when he returned their cooling pool all empty and lacking the precious cold water. Nope. He is not going to think about that. Nuh-uh. He already makes too much mess that one time he indulges in his raging teenage hormones.

Obito is his  _nephew_ for fuck’s sake.

Kakashi’s grandmother is  _cousins_ to Obito’s great-grandfather. Hatake Sakuno is the cherished cousin from the maternal side of Uchiha Tobirama’s family.

That would make Hatake Sakumo as cousins with Tobirama Jiro.

Tobirama Jiro is Obito’s grandfather.

The end result of that chaotic family tree would dictate that Obito is practically Kakashi’s blood nephew.

He kissed his own nephew.

Sage, he shoved his tongue down his own nephew’s throat. 

Kakashi presses his face to Pakkun’s chubby belly and screams.

 

* * *

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!” 

Obito buried his masked face into his palms upon hearing the muffled scream, wondering how the hell he has fallen for such an adorable idiot. They have been friends since little, arranged playmates by their silver-haired elders and Obito has always loved Kakashi. First as little brother that he does not have, then as close friends that annoy the hell out of him before that feeling grows to romantic love as he hits puberty.

Though, Obito does not expect for the cute little puppy that he used to tease throughout their childhood to make the first move, removing the mask that he used to conceal his beauty mark and pulled Obito down for a kiss.

It was a clumsy kiss—awkward and tentative but filled with innocent curiousity and want.

Kakashi has never been sent to seduction mission after all.

Things would have been all good if Kakashi didn’t break the kiss and run the fuck away.

 _Seriously_ ….

As expected, Kakashi scrambles for an escape the moment he sensed Obito’s chakra, bursting to a sunshin before he could even properly get onto his feet.

Obito simply huffs and allows his right eye to do the work.

Kakashi is pulled straight into Obito’s arms by the power of the rinnegan. Obito holds the younger teen flush to his chest, hooking his chin over Kakashi’s shoulders as he waits for the squirming Hatake to calm down. By the time Kakashi finally accepts that there is no escaping the older boy, his ears are deep pink, and his body is significantly warmer than normal.

“It is bad manners to kiss and run, Bakashi,” Obito breathes to Kakashi’s ears, enjoying the little trembles of the shorter teen. “You’ll leave your partner hanging.”

Kakashi lets out a soft choked noise in his throat.  “It’s wrong,” he whimpers, squirming away from Obito. “I’m your uncle!”

Obito blinks. Then, he tips his head and frowns.

“Bakashi, did you eat something from Orochi’s lab again?” he then asks, because that is the only acceptable reasoning he could think of that may cause the Hound to come to that conclusion. “We’re not even related, idiot.”

Kakashi turns around with a glare.

“Your great-grandfather and my grandmother are  _cousins_ ,” he growls, jabbing his finger to Obito’s chest. “I’m literally named after Uchiha Tobirama’s deceased little brother. This is wrong. We’re related by blood.”

Obito frowns deeper.

“But they’re…not?” Obito is honestly considering taking Kakashi to the medic now. The idiot needs a brain check-up. “Like, I know that Great Grandpa is related to your grandma, but it hardly affects me because my grandfather is from Great Grand-dad’s lineage. My paternal lineage is a  _Senju_. The Uchiha side comes from Lady Reiko, and she is never related to any Hatake.”

Kakashi gapes, brain stuttering to a stop.

“Like, it is very obvious,” Obito rolls his eyes, gesturing to his short hair. “If I let my hair grows, I will be a carbon copy of Great Grand-dad back during his prime.”

Kakashi is still mind-fucked, dark eyes widen, and his mask stretches to show his wide gaping.

“So you’re not my nephew?”

“Uh, no?” Obito blurts out, mismatched purple and red eyes blink in adorable confusion. “Assuming I understand your logic, your nephew and niece would be my cousins, the annoying brats from Great Grandpa’s lineage with Lady Touka as their Senju side.”

Kakashi exhales in relief.

Even with his sharingan and rinnegan activated, Obito fails to instantly react when Kakashi reaches out his hands and tugs him down for yet another clumsy kiss.

It took the Tobirama a few seconds of a pleasant surprise to digest the sudden shift of events before Obito gleefully took charge, tilting Kakashi's face so that he could deepen the kiss, using all of his learnt skills as elite shinobi to invoke tiny whimpers and soft whines from the Hatake’s heir. By the time Obito shifts to trail lazy kisses from the little mole below the trembling lips down to the bobbing throat, Kakashi is a flushed mess—cheeks deep pink and lips bruised and red with hot blood.

“Your family is messed up,” the young Hatake murmurs in a sulky grumble, hands already pulling his mask up. “Real messed up. Your family tree is a nightmare to study.” 

Obito grins.

“They’re messed up, yes. With all the adoptions and genetically engineered babies, our family tree is a chaos to study,” he hums, reaching out two fingers and flicks them at Kakashi’s forehead, his grin changes to a fond smile.

“But I wouldn’t have them any other way.”

 

* * *

 

**OMAKE!**

 

"Should we appoint anyone to organize our family tree?"

Madara snorts, not even shifting his gaze from the newspaper he is currently reading.

"Who do you hate to give them that job?" the former Shadow grumbles. "There is no need for that."

"But—"

"Every member of this clan is ours, Tobi. No matter the blood and their origin. _Ours._ "

Tobirama gives him a loving gaze before he leans close for a quick kiss.

"You're right, dear."

 _They're_ **_ours_.**

 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of the story, let's not breach the horror of cousin twice removed and those shits okay. Hope you enjoy this story. Bye~!


	10. Bonus Chapter - To horrify the whole world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my muse is an asshole and some of u guys asked about Kyuubi. So here is a bonus chapter.

It was a declaration of war.

It has to be. What else would it be?

The Raikage stared at the sealed scroll as if it would snap and swallow him whole, body leaning slightly away from the innocent rolled piece of parchment. He then reminded himself that he was the Raikage and it would be unfitting of him to show fear at the unknown like this, hence he immediately squared his shoulders, eyeing the masked ANBU of Konoha in front of him with a suspicious glare.

Cat and Hound.

Or, as stated in the Bingo Book—Tobirama Obito and Hatake Kakashi.

The infamous duo of Konoha’s most lethal ANBU combination, each was related to the Nidaime of Konoha.

It was that particular Nidaime that his predecessor has chosen to take captive and tortured right here in the depths of Kumogakure’s most secured prison. They tortured the man to the point that would break lesser man—all for the sake of their greed of wanting to properly seal the captured bijuu in a jinchuuriki. Their greed and cruelty were all in vain when said bijuu herself fell in love with the Uchiha Demon, taking a liking on his personality and strength that she took the advantage of Senju Madara’s infiltration to unleash her wrath on their lands before claiming the weakened Uchiha Demon as her jinchuuriki.

Uchiha Tobirama was rescued. Kumogakure was left in chaos upon his escape, fearing retribution.

They waited.

They waited and waited.

The retribution never came.

It was like a ticking bomb, a form of mental torture to the leadership of Kumogakure because surely Konoha would retaliate? They all knew about the  _Reaper_ , the  _boy_  who single-handedly defended Konoha with the wrath of an angry Uchiha who has lost the one that he held dear as he reaped the souls of Kumo-nin in the process. The name of the reaper was never mentioned back then because Tobirama Kagami has shown no mercy to those he deemed as foes.

And that was when they still held the upper-hand of holding Uchiha Tobirama in their captive. Now that the man has returned, Konoha’s power has surely increased—

—and Rikudou Sennin forbade, so did the wrath of people who loved the Uchiha Demon so dearly.

The wind blew the stories of the new clan in Konoha, born under the Demon’s name and carried the talents of unwanted children that were honed and supervised by Kagami himself. Scouts that managed to return to Kumogakure sent out reports of the improvements Konoha's troops have displayed—their tools, weapons, poisons, medicine and defences have been receiving a massive upgrade—and everything was to be credited to the effort of the new clan that struggled hard to prove their worth to the village.

The new clan ended up as the most valued asset in Konoha. The children of the inventor’s clan were behind the R&D of Konoha’s military development.

As if to make it worse, Lady Mito finally married Senju Hashirama, uniting the Uzushio and Konoha, thus increasing Konoha's military support.

Then, Konoha announced their new administrative structure.

Senju Hashirama remained as the Shodai Hokage. However, his wife, Uzumaki Mito, was appointed as his loyal  _Shadow—_ becoming the Shodai  _Kage_.

For all that was announced to the public, the Kage would be responsible as both advisor and the leader of Konoha’s underworld, monitoring the darker world of Shinobi life in the village and would be responsible for the elite squads that would only answer to the Hokage and the  _Shadow._

Senju Hashirama looked happier ever since the new administrative structure was announced, acting like a heavy burden was taken from his shoulders. His table has considerably less paperwork as his workload was lightened to the point he could spend some time training with the children of his village. Lady Mito's effort in the darkness was shown from the survivors who managed to return to Kumogakure—each carrying tales of horrifying masked squads from Konoha, the elite assassins who were trained with the highest level of medical ninjutsu.

Konoha was getting stronger.

Kumo waited with fearful anticipation of the retribution.

Time passed. The retribution never came.

Senju Madara followed the example of his elder brother’s a few years later, tying the knot with the Uchiha Demon himself as Uchiha Tobirama recovered from the torments Kumo had inflicted on him and remained a fearsome legend. Somehow, along the way, those two managed to breed their lineage, uniting the Senju and Uchiha bloodlines through surrogates that subsequently gifted Konoha with its third dojustu.

And to be honest, Kumogakure only has itself to blame for that development.

Tobirama Jiro awakened the legendary rinnegan moments before the Kinkaku Squad managed to pierce the armour of his fathers. The young boy lost it—Uchiha style—slamming down protective rage to the Earth as he stepped between his injured fathers and Kumo’s prided elite squad.

That was the end of the First Shinobi War.

They lost. Konoha demanded peace.

In the midst of the peace treaty and negotiations, Kumogakure waited.

The retribution still didn’t come.

Either Uchiha Tobirama was an extreme sadist or an insanely forgiving person—both options still tortured the peace of the mind of the citizens of Kumogakure.

When the Uchiha Demon assumed the leadership of Konoha after Senju Hashirama stepped down from the role, Senju Madara has remained loyal by his flank, taking over Lady Mito’s role as the Nidaime Kage. Their children were their extension to defend Konoha, forming a formidable squad consisting of four rinnegan wielders that were led by one legendary former Uchiha.

The Nidaime remained in power for another two decades.

It was two decades of complete peace. Not a single blood has ever been shed during the Uchiha Demon’s rule.

Then, the Sandaime was appointed.

Kumogakure desperately wished to remain invisible from Konoha's radar.

Unlike his predecessors, the Sandaime Hokage was known for his merciless reputation on the battlefield. They all knew of his stories and was aware of the fact that he was more hard-edged than his predecessors. Oh, he was a kind and gentle-hearted man—yes, that much was true—but when the situation called for it, he was a hot seething fire slamming down a cold wrath upon his foes.

His history of defiance told the world of the way he would rule. This was the man that did not tolerate any nonsense and would not be afraid to make his point.

The Sandaime has turned his back upon his birth clan, openly disowning the fearsome Uchiha Izuna when he was barely a teen of age. A Clan Head at the raw age of seventeen, he led and trained one of the most terrifying clans in Konoha while in the same time holding the rank as one of Konoha’s commanders that has reaped the souls of so many talented enemy shinobi that crossed his paths. He led the elite squad consisting of the first rinnegan wielders that were born in Konoha, and enforced his fearsome reputation throughout the whole two decades of his father's rule. The Sandaime was the one that ended the mass eliminations of small clans that scattered all over the shinobi world, strengthening the trust of the smaller villages to Konoha when his commanders—his former teammates, the famed Team Demon—defended the weak without asking for anything in return.

The Raikage was deeply grateful that he listened to his gut to NOT join the allied force of Kirigakure and Iwagakure to eliminate the smaller clans that refused to submit to their allied power.

The survivors of the eliminated clans have scattered all over the Fire Country, but it wasn’t long before they knocked upon the gates of Konoha and requested for the warm embrace of the forever-accepting Tobirama Clan.

Look at the last heir of the Yashagoro Clan—the last of the brilliant serpent—and the dying mother of the last heir of the Namikaze Clan. They all sought the safety of the Sandaime’s clan.

But of course, the greed of Konoha's enemies never ends.

Kumo simply watched from the sidelines when Iwa tried to challenge Konoha, attempting to sabotage the infamous White Fang’s mission. It would have worked. The mission would have been smoothly sabotaged and destroyed Konoha's image as a peaceful nation to the world if not because of the scrutinising eyes of the Sandaime  _Shadow_.

Shimura Danzou noticed the sabotage attempt.

It was an immediate loss for Iwagakure when the Sandaime and his former team themselves that came for the rescue. All six former students of the legendary Nidaime banding together against the arrogant, unprepared troops of Iwa shinobi. The result was expected.

The Second Shinobi War was stopped before it could even become worse.

But the enemies never learnt.

Not a few years after Iwa's humiliating loss, Kiri made their move.

At the sidelines, Kumo collectively facepalmed.

No challenge against Konoha has ever worked before, so why would Kiri even attempt to commence  _that_ strategy?

In all seriousness,  _why_?

Konoha already has the Niibi. Why would Kiri practically gift the Sanbi to Konoha?

All that the abducted girl from Konoha needed to do was to escape and ran to her teammates (both were extremely familiar with the Niibi at that!) where the eldest grandson of Tobirama Jiro could teleport them back home to his ancient, yet still powerful great-grandfather.

Sanbi didn’t attempt to destroy Konoha when he heard the purring voice of his long-lost sister calming him down.

Uchiha Tobirama fixed the seals on Nohara Rin’s body, properly sealing the Sanbi inside her.

Nohara Rin reached out for the disgruntled bijuu inside her, speaking to the bijuu with the kindness that was a resemblance to the Nidaime’s gentle kindness as she sought forgiveness from the bijuu. It was her genuine heart that turned the tables. She pleaded for the bijuu’s forgiveness, knowing that it was human's fault that the majestic turtle ended up as a pawn piece to their greed when he could’ve lived peacefully in his ocean, far away from human's interference.

Isobu fell in love with his jinchuuriki.

Matatabi purred in smug understanding.

Konoha gained their second bijuu.

The Raikage resisted his urge to send a scroll with a gigantic red scrawl of  **‘I TOLD YOU SO’**  to the Mizukage and Tsuchikage.

 

* * *

 

Nobody dared to attack Konoha when the Sandaime stepped down.

Tobirama Kagami handed the hat to Namikaze Minato.

Shimura Danzou handed the cloak to Yashagoro Orochimaru.           

The new Hokage and his Shadow were appointed and not one enemy of Konoha dared to take advantage of the fragile political situation of the changing ruling power.

They all have learnt their lessons. It seemed that out of the Four Kage of the Elemental Nations, only the Kazekage have the mind that was capable to see the disadvantages of being enemies with Konoha. From the Shodai Kazekage to the Sandaime Kazekage, they all maintained a respectful alliance with Konoha.

Then, Yondaime Kazekage stepped it up even further.

The Shinobi world heard about the misfortune that has befallen the Yondaime Kazekage. The birth of his youngest son was at the same time the old jinchuuriki of Shukaku passed away, hence leaving the man with no choice but to haphazardly seal the rampaging beast inside his youngest child.

They heard how that decision has broken the man.

It wasn’t long before the news reached the ancient ears of the Nidaime of Konoha.

A short trip later, little Gaara has his seals fixed, earned a godfather in the Yondaime Hokage and a future master in Nohara Rin while the alliance between Suna and Konoha was stronger than ever. The Yondaime of both villages decided to arrange their sons as playmates, using the children as the bridge of unity between both villages.

Little Naruto was building sandcastles at the very outskirts of Suna with his best friend when the Kyuubi first approached him.

The fox initially came to rant to his sibling, demanding Shukaku what the actual fuck the tanuki was thinking to allow himself being imprisoned again. However, the fox was cut short upon seeing the interaction between the tiny summon-sized Shukaku and his jinchuuriki. Gaara cuddled Shukaku to his chest while Shukaku had his tail wrapped protectively around his jinchuuriki as they indulged in a hushed murmur with each other that made Naruto pouted at them.

Kurama had seen similar interactions between Matatabi and her humans and has caught a peek of the same adoring love between Isobu and his own cherished human. The innocent love that Gaara showed to his grumpy bijuu pulled something within the Kyuubi’s heart, reminding the fox of his old memories ages ago where he used to have his own jinchuuriki too.

The interactions of his siblings with their humans reminded him of his good old times with the Rikudou Sennin.

Kyuubi was  _jealous._

Naruto saw the tiny shift of emotions in the giant fox’s eyes. The innocent blonde boy decided that kitsune should not be unhappy and offered the fox some consolations in the form of his stash of candies.

At first, Kyuubi was insulted.

The fox growled at the boy, ignoring the way his heart seemed to melt upon meeting the innocent genuine care in those blue eyes as he bolted away.

But he kept coming back.

His eyes lingered on the blonde boy on the aged Uchiha Demon’s lap even when his arrival in Konoha was supposedly to visit Matatabi and Isobu. Matatabi and Isobu’s voices faded to buzzed white noise as Kyuubi kept his head over his paws, red eyes fixed on the little boy that clung to Senju Madara’s kimono as the old man tended to his garden. He didn’t hear the chatters of his summons-sized siblings as his ears tuned into Naruto’s laughter that drowned Madara’s grumbling. He didn’t notice the amused gleam in Uchiha Tobirama’s eyes nor did he notice the knowing glance that Matatabi, Isobu and Rin have shared as he tried to stretch his massive head across the yard, being drawn into the presence of the bright ball of sunshine.

The fox huffed and looked away when the boy turned around to direct that bright smile at him.

But when Naruto was distracted in harassing his great-grandfather, Kyuubi would direct that longing looks upon the boy's back again.

Kushina has to sunshin away to the other side of the village, bursting to hysterical laugh at Mikoto’s shoulder once she was far away from the disgruntled tsundere bijuu-in-denial.

Kyuubi was never aware of the bets that have been going around between his siblings and some of the humans that have seen the way he looked longingly at Naruto.

Minato and Isobu won that bet.

(They celebrated it with a gleeful high-five.)

It only took six months for the fox bijuu to finally caved to his longing and loneliness before he suddenly appeared at Konoha's gates, grabbed Naruto by the scruff of the boy's collar and demanded the Yondaime Hokage and the Nidaime to seal him inside the precious little human that has stolen his guarded heart.

Naruto was over the moon that he has another thing to relate to his best friend, his favourite nee-chan and his second favourite great-grandfather. The boy happily embraced Kurama as his lifelong bijuu partner.

Konoha gained their third bijuu.

The Shinobi world trembled in terror.

 

* * *

 

“The Hokage wished to—?”

“We would appreciate your participation in the upcoming Chuunin Exam, Raikage-sama,” Cat bowed and after a brief hesitance, he took off his porcelain mask to show the Raikage his assuring smile. “The Hokage would be deeply grateful if you would participate this time.”

The Raikage knew that he should have given his response, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the mesmerizing eyes of the Konoha’s ANBU. The plain ruby of the left eye was the subject of legends—a horror story passed down throughout generations of Raikage—and true to the stories, even without the tomoe, the ruby of the Uchiha Demon’s eye was mesmerizing on its own. There was a vertical scar that marred the left side of the ANBU’s face, but the Raikage deemed that it was not as distracting as the inhuman ringed purple of the ANBU’s right eye.

This was the Nidaime’s great-grandson.

Obito’s gentle assuring smile backfired as it sparked fear in the Raikage instead of the peaceful reassurance he intended.

This was the great-grandson of the man that his predecessor has tormented in this very land.

Is this the long-awaited retribution? Damn, Konoha did wait for a long time to drop the bomb on Kumo for taking and torturing one of their founders. It has been an extremely long time…

Which reminded him. How old was the Nidaime again?

The Raikage didn’t realise that he has said that out loud.

Obito exchanged a look with his masked partner before a frown graced his handsome features.

“One hundred-something?” the ANBU murmured, tilting his gaze up to the ceiling in a focused thinking look. “I’m pretty sure we celebrated his hundredth’s birthday when I was a kid.”

“We stopped counting when he reached the hundredth’s mark,” the Hound huffed. “Like, he is  _ancient._  I don’t even know if that is the actual life-expectancy of a shinobi if we're not killed in the battlefield or if that is all—"

Obito tilted his head when Kakashi made an aimless gesture in the air.

“—Tabi?” the scarred ANBU asked, tilting his head contemplatively. “But Izuna-sama and Lady Reiko lived for a long time too. Hashirama-jiichan and Mito-baachan are still around. The only dead people in our family were the ones who were killed," he said with a mournful frown. "Perhaps Tabi might have little influence in this, I think?”

The Raikage tried hard to not flinch. Did they just address the two-tailed like it was a house cat instead of gigantic tailed-beast?

“But Tabi did have a role in their strength,” Kakashi argued. “I remembered seeing Izuna-sama with a walking stick near his death while Granduncle could still race me and  _win_.”

Yes. They did address the Niibi like it was their housecat.

Konoha, what the actual fuck?

“He can race us anytime now and still wins,” Obito frowned, lips curling to a pout.

“True that,” Kakashi sighed, now taking off his ANBU mask too to show the defeated annoyance in his expressive eyes. Then, those dark eyes widened, and he shot his partner a mortified look. “Wait, Rin!”

Obito gaped for a few seconds before he winced.

“She is gonna hold that over us, right?”

Kakashi groaned. "I'm not looking forward to the day she would leave us in the dust when we're all old and fragile while she has Sobu-chan to cheat.”

And that was the Sanbi, also referred like a mere family pet instead of a terrifying bijuu.

The Raikage hid a shudder.

Konoha is  _scary_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short, Konoha is scary.
> 
> To be honest, I like to think that shinobi has longer lifespan than civilian if they are not killed. Like, in canon, Sarutobi could still fight in a war when he is in his 70s. To be honest, all of the deaths I remember in Naruto is that of them being killed. I don't remember anyone dying of old age. Thus, I imagine that their lifespan is like wizards in Harry Potter's universe. Dumbledore is in his 150s and is still going strong. Tobirama and Madara are still cool to fight in their 100-ish age, but chose not to because they're done with all the fighting.
> 
> BTW, three guesses who will be the Shadow when Naruto become the Hokage?


End file.
